


One Bad Night

by complicationstoo



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grey's Anatomy Fusion, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Based on Grey's Anatomy, Boss/Employee Relationship, Bottom Tony Stark, Falling In Love, Getting Together, M/M, Slow Burn, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:54:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 49,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22414336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/complicationstoo/pseuds/complicationstoo
Summary: Steve Rogers has a one night stand the night before his first day as a surgical intern. And that's fine - until his one night stand turns out to be his boss.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 228
Kudos: 444





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my Steve/Tony Grey's Anatomy AU. This came to me after a Grey's Anatomy binge, and I just had to get intern!Steve out into the world. 
> 
> This will loosely follow the plot of season one of Grey's Anatomy, but not down to a t. If you haven't seen the show, no worries! Not at all required. And if you have, well, then you have a good sense of what's going to happen, but I hope you come along for the ride anyway. I'll make it worth you're while :)
> 
> Work title is the Hayley Kiyoko song - One Bad Night.

The first thing Steve registers when he wakes up, long before he opens his eyes, is the pounding headache - a telltale sign of his hangover. The next thing, which is considerably worse, is the warm weight on his chest. His eyes pop open when the weight starts to shift and an arm tightens around his waist. He looks down at the head of dark hair on his chest, the tanned skin standing out against his own pale skin, and he tries to remember how he ended up like this. He remembers the intern party, remembers having a really boring time trying to make conversation with the other surgical interns, then leaving for the bar across the street to kill the rest of his evening and drink his first day nerves away. He sort of remembers meeting the guy who’s now asleep on top of him. The guy bought him a drink and they talked for a while about nothing in particular. One drink must have turned into many drinks, though, because the rest of the night is a blur that somehow brought him here. To sleeping on his couch with a stranger on the morning he’s supposed to…

_ Oh, shit.  _ Steve checks the watch on his wrist and knows instantly there’s no way he can make it to work on time, not unless he rushes through his morning routine in record time and sprints the five blocks to work. The arm around his waist tightens its grip again as if to remind him of another problem with that plan. 

Steve moves as quickly as he can without disturbing the sleeping man too much. He lifts the arm up, sliding out from under it and placing the man gently down on the couch. Reaching for the blanket on the back of the couch, he wraps it around his waist to make his way into the bathroom for a shower. 

Before he can get out of the living room, he hears a groan coming from the couch and freezes. A groggy voice says, “Good morning,” and if it was any other day he would think it was cute. But today it’s inconvenient. 

He turns around to see the man sitting up on the couch, reaching for his discarded clothing from the piles scattered around the living room. The man pulls on his boxers and stands, turning to face Steve. He’s incredibly attractive, with perfectly manicured facial hair and toned muscles lining every inch of his lean figure, and Steve has to make a conscious effort to remember exactly why the man is a problem right now. 

“Hi,” Steve starts. “Um, I have to go to work. It’s my first day, and I can’t be late so…”

The man looks taken aback for just a second before he easily recovers, “Right, yeah, of course. I’ll just get my things then. No problem.”

“Yeah, that would- that would be good. Thanks,” he trails off awkwardly, desperately trying to remember the man’s name. 

Embarrassingly the man fills it in for him, and Steve feels the blush spreading across his face as the man reaches a hand out, “Tony.”

“Steve,” he replies, shaking his hand.

“Well, nice to meet you, Steve,” Tony flashes him a bright smile as he pulls on his dress shirt. He buttons it quickly, and Steve realizes that he’s staring. “You’ve got a nice place. Great couch.”

“Yeah, um, nice to meet you, too,” Steve murmurs. “Bye, Tony.”

Steve practically runs out of the living room and slams the bathroom door shut behind him. He showers as fast as he possibly can, wiping away the traces of last night’s activities, and by the time he’s dressed Tony is gone. 

On the way out he shoves a granola bar in his pocket for whenever he gets a chance to eat. Another check of his watch tells him he only has ten minutes until he’s supposed to be in the intern locker room, ready to start the long first shift. 

When he reaches the hospital doors, he’s covered in a thin layer of sweat from the run. A little out of breath, he makes it to the locker room with just enough time to change into scrubs. The guy next to him gives him a questioning look and receives a tight lipped smile in return. Not great, as far as first impressions go, but he could always do worse.

Residents start to filter into the room, calling out the names of the interns assigned to them. Small groups of interns slowly file out of the room, until Steve’s left standing with three others. 

“Guess that just leaves us,” the guy who’s locker is next to Steve’s says. He brushes his hair out of his eyes and says, “I’m James Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

“Sam Wilson.”

“Natasha Romanov.”

“Steve Rogers,” he finishes off the introduction, and there’s an awkward silence as they wait for their resident to arrive.

“So what have you heard about her,” Sam whispers conspiratorially. “Our resident, I mean.”

“She’s one of the best,” Natasha replies. She has a cool demeanor about her, a confidence in the way she holds herself, and Steve can tell immediately that she’s one to beat. The other two are less threatening in appearance, though maybe he shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.

“I heard she’s a hard ass,” Bucky chimes in. 

Sam nods in agreement, “I heard that, too. Also heard she’s known for giving interns hell.”

“She is,” a new voice comes into the conversation, and Steve is instantly grateful he didn’t join in on the conversation when he sees the tall redhead in the doorway. There’s a little amusement in her voice as she continues, “Let’s start now, shall we?”

She turns her back and starts down the hall, and Steve and the others scramble to follow. Dr. Potts doesn’t give them another glance as she starts talking, “First things first, we are not friends. The less I know about you the better. My only job is to teach you surgical procedures and make sure you don’t kill anyone along the way. Everything else is on you. You do as I say, when I say it. No arguments.” She finally turns, stopping them dead in their tracks in the middle of the hall. “Clear?” 

There is just a moment of slightly surprised silence before they all nod. She seems satisfied with the response and continues down the hall again until they end up in the entryway of the emergency room. The room is flurry of movement, gurneys and doctors flitting around in a rush. Steve feels a jolt of excitement at the sight of it, with the knowledge that after years of schooling he’s finally where he wants to be.

A hand in front of him recaptures his attention. “Your pager.” Potts looks stern as he takes it from her. “Keep it on you at all times. When you get paged, you run. Do not walk. Run. Got it?”

Steve nods quickly and attaches the pager to his waistband. Potts continues with the rushed tour of the hospital.

“Number one rule of the ER is to stay out of the way. Don’t prevent the people that know more than you from doing their jobs,” she swivels, and they follow her down the hall until she stops in front of a door. She opens it to sets of bunk beds. “On call rooms are your friends. You’ll be working long shifts and a lot of nights. Get used to sleeping whenever you can and wherever you can.” 

All five of their pagers go off at once, and Steve’s heart rate goes up a tick as they all rush back down the hall, towards the ER that they just came from. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when they get there, standing in front of the ambulance that’s pulling up as they’re walking through the doors. Their resident takes charge of the situation, and he tries to stay out of the way until someone tells him to do something. Steve and the other interns shuffle into the trauma room, pressing themselves against a wall to take up as little space as possible. 

The patient on the gurney, a man who looks to be in his late 50s, is unconscious, and according to the paramedics he’s been this way for almost twenty minutes now. Another doctor comes in the room and takes a flashlight from his pocket, checking the patient’s pupils. He seems satisfied with the result, and there’s more movement of doctors and wires and tubes as the patient starts to regain consciousness. He finally becomes coherent enough to tell them his name, though he’s definitely disoriented still. They ask him some questions as his heart rate slowly returns to normal.

“What are we looking at Dr. Banner?” Dr. Potts asks, looking at the doctor that joined them moments ago.

“We’ll need some scans,” Dr. Banner replies. “Have one of your interns take him for a CT and let me know when you get the results.”

Dr. Potts looks at the four interns for a moment and decides, “Rogers, he’s all yours. Get him to CT.”

Steve freezes, “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

He swallows hard and tries to control his reaction to getting his first actual patient, which is a mixture of excitement and panic. “Right, okay. I’ll just - I’ll take him for a CT. Which is…”

“Second floor to the right,” she supplies, looking more than a little exasperated already. God, he better get it together quick before his resident hates him on day one. “When you’re done, get him to a room in the surgical wing. Get blood work, too, while you’re at it.” 

He gets left alone with the patient, and he tries for a calming smile as he introduces himself, “Hi, I’m Dr. Rogers. I’ll be taking you to run some tests, Mr. Johnson.”

The patient nods slowly, “You can call me Martin.”

“Right, Martin, then,” Steve says. He goes to the head of the gurney and pushes it out of the room, through the busy ER and towards the elevator. He pushes the button for the second floor, and the quick ride feels uncomfortably silent. Is he supposed to make small talk? Is that what doctors do? 

The elevator doors open before he can come up with something, and he pushes the gurney into the hall. He knows Dr. Potts told him the direction, but he can’t remember anymore. He stands there for what feels like an eternity before Martin says, “It’s to the right.”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve says, embarrassed. “Thanks. It’s, um, it’s my first day.” He realizes that he might not want to tell patients that just a little too late. “Not that I don’t know what I’m doing or anything. I graduated at the top of my class, and this is a really hard program to get into, so I swear I’m qualified to take care of you. I just don’t quite know my way around yet, that’s all.”

And just like that he’s made it even worse, but luckily Martin just laughs. “You can relax, kid. I get it. As long as you’re not the one operating on me, we’re good.”

“Well, we don’t know that you’ll need an operation yet,” Steve says as relief washes through him. “You could be completely fine.”

“Do people often pass out for no reason?” His tone is light, but Steve can recognize the worry behind it.

“People can pass out for non-surgical, non-life threatening reasons,” Steve tries to reassure. “There’s no reason to worry yet.”

“Yet,” Martin repeats. “And what about later?”

They finally reach the CT, and Steve stops the gurney so he can stand in front of Martin when he answers, “If you have something that requires an operation, then you’re in the best hands here. So even then you won’t have to worry.”

It seems to help, and Martin gives a small smile. Steve answers with one of his own before turning to the CT tech. He fills the tech in briefly, then takes Martin into the room to get him settled on the bed for the scan. “Alright, be careful not to move, and if you need anything, just say something. We’ll be able to hear you.”

Martin nods, and Steve goes into the other room to wait for the scan to be complete. When it’s over, he wheels Martin in the gurney down the hall. 

Once Martin’s settled in a room, which took a bit of time after Steve realized he had no idea  _ what  _ room to take him to, Steve takes the vial of blood he’d drawn to the lab. Well, he takes it down three wrong turns first, but he finally gets it there. He waits outside the lab for results, not knowing what else to do in the meantime. It takes a while, but eventually he has both the scans and the blood work in his hands, and he walks away to find Dr. Banner.

He finds him at the nurses’ station and clears his throat, “Dr. Banner? I have the test results from Mr. Johnson.” 

Steve hands them off, and it takes just a few seconds for the surgeon to declare, “Not a neuro case. Looks like a cardio problem.”

“Right, so...” Steve trails off, unsure of what to do with that information. 

Dr. Banner gives him a kind smile, “You’ll want to get the new cardio guy. Dr. Stark. He’ll take it from there.” He points to a figure down the hall, whose back is turned to him for the time being. Dr. Banner walks off, leaving him to face the new guy on his own. He’s just a few steps away from the doctor when he turns, and Steve’s stomach drops.

Tony glances up from the chart in his hands and meets Steve’s wide eyes. Raising his eyebrows, Tony looks just as surprised as Steve feels. 

In a panic, Steve rushes passed Tony, completely forgetting about the patient he’s supposed to be getting a consult for, and he pushes open the door to the stairwell. He leans against the railing, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart. The door opens, and under his breath Steve mutters, “Oh, God.”

“Well, this is certainly a surprise,” Tony says, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half smile. “Can’t say it’s unwelcome, though.”

“Oh, God,” Steve repeats. He buries his face in his hand, wishing desperately that he could erase the last 24 hours of his life from existence. 

“You don’t have to look so upset about it,” Tony says, and Steve uncovers his eyes so he can see Tony’s face. He’s relieved when he sees that Tony looks more amused than hurt by Steve’s reaction to their situation.

“I - I’m not upset,” Steve stammers. “I just - this isn’t exactly the kind of situation you ever think you’re going to find yourself in.”

“I guess you’re just lucky.”

Steve laughs coldly, “Yeah, lucky. Not exactly what I would call it.”

“Why not?” Tony grins. “I’m a catch.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Tony confirms. He moves a few steps closer, until there’s just a foot of space between them and Steve can smell his cologne. 

“How do you figure?” 

Tony gestures to his body, “I’m an attractive, accomplished cardiothoracic surgeon, who just last night you called the funniest guy you’ve ever met.”

“I said that?” Steve questions. 

Tony nods, “You did indeed, Steve. Right before you brought me back to your place and used me for sex.”

“Oh, God,” Steve groans. “Please don’t say that.”

“What? That you used me for sex?” Tony quirks an eyebrow. “It’s what happened, isn’t it? We were both a little drunk, you invited me back to your place, screwed me on the couch - which was very good, by the way. No complaints here at all. And then you kicked me out this morning. Rather quickly, but don’t worry, no hard feelings. You’re cute when you’re kicking me out of your house.”

“For the record, I don’t normally do things like that,” Steve says, feeling guilty for the way it happened. 

“Hm, that’s what they all say.”

Steve sighs, “Can we just, I don’t know, pretend like it never happened?” 

“What if I liked what happened?” Tony challenges, a smirk playing on his lips. “What if I wanted it to happen again? This weekend, maybe. Saturday? You’re not on call, are you?” 

“You’re my boss,” Steve says, and he’s not sure which one of them he’s reminding of this fact. “I’m an intern, you’re an attending. That’s all kinds of bad.” 

“Could be the hot kind of bad, though. I bet you’ve had that fantasy before.” 

Steve shakes his head, “I don’t have time for this. It’s my first day as an intern, and honestly? It’s not going all that great. I don’t have a damn clue what I’m doing, I got lost on my way to the lab earlier, and I’m pretty sure my resident thinks I’m an idiot already.”

“Pepper?” Tony asks. “No, she doesn’t.”

“How would you know?” 

“Because I know her,” Tony replies. Steve’s face must ask the question for him, because Tony continues, “I did my residency here before I moved to LA, and she was my intern when I was a fourth year. I can guarantee she doesn’t think you’re an idiot, because she always persuades the chief to give her the best interns. Not sure how she does it, really. With Fury being such an ass and all. Anyway, that makes you one of the best, and therefore, not an idiot.”

Steve doesn’t know how true that is, but it gives him a small sense of relief. “Okay, that’s… that’s good to know, I guess.”

Tony looks down at the set of scans in Steve’s hand and gestures toward them with his chin, “I’m assuming those are for me?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, holding them out for him. “It’s a patient that came in this morning after he fainted at work. Martin Johnson. Dr. Banner told me to bring it to you.”

Tony holds the chest scan to the light and narrows his eyes. After a moment he hands it back to Steve. “I’d like to do an echo. Where’s the patient?”

“Down the hall.”

“Great,” Tony says, sounding rather cheerful about it. “Lead the way.” 

Steve hesitates, thrown off by the way the conversation has turned out. “So, you’re dropping it? Last night? This morning?”

“For now,” Tony smirks. “No promises about the future.”

“Dr. Stark,” Steve tries to sound stern, but it comes out a little breathless. He follows Tony out into the hallway, falling into step beside him.

“Why does my name sound like a come on when you say it?” Tony laughs. “It sounds so dirty. Like we’re in a porno.”

“Dr. Stark,” Steve repeats, this time managing to sound as annoyed as he feels. 

“Right, sorry. Dropping it.” 

_ If only he sounded sorry,  _ Steve thinks. He leads Tony down the hall to the patient’s room, then stops them in front of the door. “He’s in here.”

Tony walks into the room in front of him, and it’s like he transforms into a different person now that he’s with a patient. Gone is the man flirting with him in a stairwell, mischievous eyes and a daring smirk replaced with a kind smile and caring words.

“Hi, Mr. Johnson. I’m Dr. Stark, the head of cardiothoracic surgery here. Dr. Rogers here just filled me in on your case. I understand you fainted this morning at work. Were you having any other symptoms before that? Chest pain, shortness of breath, fatigue?”

Steve leans against the door frame, watching Martin and Tony talk. Tony performs a quick chest exam and glances up at Steve to tell him to schedule an echo for the afternoon. 

After saying a few reassuring words to Martin, Tony leaves the room, purposely brushing his shoulder against Steve’s bicep. He almost misses the low words, “I’ll see you later, Steve.”


	2. Chapter 2

“This is the longest day of my life,” Sam says, climbing onto the abandoned gurney next to Bucky. They’re in one of the back hallways in the basement of the hospital, and it’s blissfully quiet, not another soul in sight besides the three other interns. The four of them sit with their backs against the wall, legs kicked out in front of them and feet dangling off the edge.

“Agreed,” Bucky says. 

For a while, the only sound is the crunching of Natasha’s apple, and Steve is trying desperately to keep his eyes from falling shut. It’s only been nine hours - just barely a dent in the 48 hour shift - and yet Steve feels like an eternity had passed since the morning. 

“I think Potts hates me,” Sam interrupts the quiet. “She’s had me on scut all day. Literally nine straight hours. Do you know how many infected wounds I’ve cleaned today? One squirted puss on my face. My face, guys!”

Steve laughs, “We’re interns, Sam. What’d you expect?”

“I didn’t expect puss on my face, that’s for sure,” Sam grumbles. “And you’re on a real case. You get to be with the cardio guy.”

Steve feels his face heat up at the mention of Tony, and his chest tightens with the need to confess. “Can I tell you guys something that might make me sound kind of awful?”

“You can’t possibly have killed somebody already,” Bucky jokes, then his face twists. “Can you?”

“No, God. Nothing like that.”

“Alright, then spill,” Natasha says. She tosses her apple core down the hall, and it lands perfectly in the trash can with an echoing thud. “What’d you do?”

Steve takes a deep breath, “Okay, before I say this, I would like to establish the fact that we are all friends. I know we only met a few hours ago, and technically we’re not friends, but we kind of are. We’re bonded through the mutual torture that is being an intern. And that’s a sacred bond, because we’re stuck together for the next two years of this hell. Right?”

The three of them stare at him, then exchange quick glances with each other. Natasha is the one to answer, “Okay, sure. Sacred bond between interns. We’ll do a blood oath later.”

Another deep breath, then the words come out in a rush, “I slept with the cardio guy last night. Dr. Stark. Tony. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know it was him until this morning. We met at a bar and went home together. And then today, he was just… there. I needed a consult, and Dr. Banner told me to find the new cardio guy, and there he was, the guy that I had kicked out of my house an hour before.”

They don’t answer, and Steve continues the ramble, “It’s bad, isn’t it? Sleeping with your boss? Even though I didn’t actually know that he was my boss when it happened. I should quit, right? I should move to a different state and work at a different hospital where hot attendings aren’t flirting with me in stairwells.”

“He’s flirting with you in stairwells?” Natasha asks. Her face remained oddly expressionless throughout Steve’s confession, but now she looks entertained.

“Yeah,” Steve admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “He asked me out.”

Sam stares at him, “You said no, right?”

“Obviously. He’s my boss. It’s a bad idea,” Steve answers defensively.

“Could pay off, though,” Bucky says. “Get you in on all the good cardio cases.”

Steve grimaces, “That’s exactly why it’s a bad idea. Because everyone would think that. That I was sleeping my way onto the good cases. And I’m not. I never meant to - would never mean to. I worked hard to get here, and I don’t want anyone thinking any different.”

“Of course not. No one’s thinking that,” Natasha says. She shoots a hard look at Sam, who’s clearly thinking that. Sam responds with a sigh and slumps further down the wall and into the gurney. He asks, “So what are you going to do then?”

“Nothing. We’re pretending it never happened. At least that’s what I’m doing. He’s… I don’t know. He’s telling me that it sounds like we’re in a porn film when I say his name.”

“Oh, that’s an image I didn’t need,” Bucky says. “Thanks for that.”

Natasha laughs, and Steve can’t help but join in, especially when she says, “No one told you to picture it, that’s on you.”

But then Steve’s pager goes off. 911 for Martin, and the conversation is immediately stopped as Steve jumps from the gurney and sprints to the stairs. He takes them two at a time to the second floor, and he’s breathing hard by the time he reaches Martin’s room. When he enters the room, though, everything seems normal, and Martin looks at him with raised eyebrows while Tony smirks down at the chart in his hands. 

“Fifty two seconds,” Tony says, looking at Martin with a smug expression. “Told you he could do it in less than a minute.”

“You were right.”

“What?” Steve questions. “What’s going on? Why - you paged me 911.”

“It was a test. You passed,” Tony says. He has yet to actually look at Steve, continuing making notes in the chart like Steve isn’t a panting mess next to him.

“What?” Steve repeats the question. He leans against the wall, hands on his hips as he tries to slow his heart rate back down to normal. 

“Mr. Johnson didn’t think you could get here that fast, but it took you less than a minute. Congrats.”

“So there’s nothing wrong?”

Tony shakes his head as he sets the chart down, returning the pen to the pocket of his white coat and finally meeting Steve’s eyes. “Nope. But I do have the results of Mr. Johnson’s echo. Confirmed my suspicions. Aortic stenosis.”

“Getting my valve replaced tomorrow,” Martin tells Steve. He seems okay with it, almost smiling as he says it. 

“That’s…” Steve trails off, finishing the sentence with a slight nod instead as he realizes he doesn’t know the appropriate word for what it is.

Martin laughs and looks at Tony, “I think you broke your intern.” 

“Hm, I think I did. Hope he’s recovered enough to scrub in tomorrow.”

“Scrub in? Tomorrow?” 

“Of course,” Tony says, stepping forward until he’s directly in front of Steve. “He’s your patient. You should be able to see it through. I mean, you’re not touching anything. You’ll be lucky to even be on suction, but you’ll be in the room.”

It takes Steve a moment to process the last few minutes, from the panic of receiving the page, to the immediate relief of nothing being wrong, and finally cycling back to a nervous excitement that seems to be the normal for the day. “Right, um, thank you, Dr. Stark. I appreciate it.”

Tony smiles at him, soft and amused, then turns back to Martin, “Alright, Mr. Johnson. I’ll be back to see you in the morning before your surgery, and you’ve got Dr. Rogers if you need anything before then.”

Tony walks out of the room, and Steve says, “I’ll be right back, Martin,” before following him into the hallway. He catches him by the elbow, a light touch that makes him turn around. “Yes, Steve?”

He drops his voice to a whisper and gets the question out before he can lose the nerve, “This isn’t because of last night, right? I just - I need to make sure that -”

“Steve, no,” Tony interrupts. “You really think that I’m letting you in on a surgery because you had sex with me? I’m not turning you into a prostitute, Rogers. I’m not an asshole, despite popular belief. He’s your patient, so you get to be there.”

“I - that’s not. I needed to make sure, because my friends mentioned it, that sleeping with you would get me good cases, and now it’s in my head,” Steve tries to explain, desperate to turn the conversation around. “I don’t think you’re an asshole.”

Tony smiles, a teasing tone taking over, “You told your friends about us? Didn’t realize we were getting so serious.”

“What? No,” Steve stammers. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“You said we were going to drop it.”

“You brought it up,” Tony reminds him with a laugh. 

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, “Jesus, yeah, I guess I did.”

“And you told your friends,” Tony says, sounding wistful all of a sudden. “You know, it’s been a really long time since my psych rotation in med school, so I may not be remembering my psychology textbooks all that well, but one might say that there’s a reason for that. Some sort of deeper meaning into why you, who claimed that you wanted to move on from it and forget it ever happened, wouldn’t keep it a secret. One might even say that it means you don’t really want to let it go.”

“Oh, God. Please stop talking,” Steve begs. 

Tony grins, “You know what they say about denial, Steve. But that’s okay, we’ll get there eventually.”

“I think I hate you,” Steve says. He starts to nod, “Yeah, that’s it. I definitely hate you.”

Tony laughs, a bright sound that makes Steve smile despite himself. “Oh, Steve, we both know that’s just not true. You can admit it, you find me charming.”

“You made me run up three flights of stairs and down four hallways in under a minute.”

“Yeah, that was fun, wasn’t it?”

“I almost had a heart attack.”

Tony shrugs, “Good thing you slept with the head of cardio then. I know how to fix that.”

“You know what?” Steve smiles and shakes his head. “I’m going to walk away from you now, Dr. Stark. Your charm isn’t going to work on me today.”

“But you admit that I do have charm,” Tony’s own smile widens. “And ‘today’ implies a future in which my charm does, in fact, work on you. I hope you understand that you’ve just encouraged me to keep trying.”

Steve decides to ask a question, just a test to see what the answer is, “What if I told you that I really, really don’t want you to do that? That I wanted you to stop?”

Tony takes on a more serious expression and tone, “Then I would never mention it again. Is that what you want, Steve?”

Steve knows it’s a bad idea before he can say it. He knows that he’s been given an out, that he could walk away without consequence, secure in the promise that Tony’s just given him. But he’s never really been one to play it safe, so instead he says, “No, I don’t want that.”

Tony smiles again, “Good.”

“Good,” Steve repeats. 

“So consensual flirting, then?” Tony jokes. He nods slowly, like he’s letting the idea settle into his head. “This is going to be fun.”

Steve laughs, “Now I’m really walking away.”

“Fine,” Tony says as Steve turns to go back to Martin’s room. “Guess I’ll just enjoy the view.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for every kudos/comment/subscription/bookmark! I greatly appreciate all the feedback I've gotten so far :)


	3. Chapter 3

Steve wakes up with a groan and reaches under the pillow to silence the alarm on his phone. He squints against the bright light of his screen, resisting the strong urge to press snooze and catch a few more minutes in the on call room. He was almost late for day one, and he won’t press his luck on day two. 

Hopping from the top bunk, Steve shoves Bucky’s shoulder, who is still asleep in the bottom bunk. “Come on, man. We’ve got rounds soon.”

Bucky grunts and mumbles something unintelligible into the pillow. Steve pulls on his hand, tugging until Bucky finally opens his eyes. “Fuck, what time is it?” 

“We’ve got twenty minutes before rounds,” Steve tells him. Bucky stands, suddenly right in front of Steve’s face, and lets out a sigh. “And you might want to brush your teeth before talking to patients.”

“Yeah, because your breath is a real treat right now,” Bucky deadpans, punctuating it with an eye roll. 

“You’re not much fun when you’re sleep-deprived, are you?” Steve jokes as they exit the on call room to head to the intern locker room a few doors down.

“Is anyone?”

“I guess not,” Steve replies, pushing the door to the locker room open. It’s a flurry of other interns getting themselves together after the long night, and Steve maneuvers through the clusters of bodies to get to his locker in the back. 

“Good morning, boys,” Natasha smiles, glancing up from her seat on the bench in front of their lockers. She doesn’t look any different than she did 24 hours ago, as if she’s been completely unaffected by the lack of sleep and near constant work. 

Steve turns back to Bucky, “Never mind, we were wrong.”

He rummages through his locker to find the bag of toiletries he shoved in there yesterday morning, pulling out his toothbrush and toothpaste. There’s a short line for the sinks, and he leans against the lockers while he waits his turn. 

“So Sam told me that you’re scrubbing in on a valve replacement today,” Natasha says, tone suggesting indifference. “How’d you manage that?”

“Wait, with Stark?” Bucky interjects before Steve can answer. 

“Yeah, we’re operating on the patient that came yesterday morning,” Steve says with a shrug. “Didn’t really ‘manage’ anything. He’s my patient.”

“Jesus, wish I’d slept with the guy,” Bucky grumbles, jealousy coloring his voice, and Steve tries not to take it personally. Natasha comes to his defense quickly, “Hey, that’s not his fault. Don’t be an ass about it.”

Bucky starts to apologize, but Steve brushes it off, “Don’t worry about it. I get it. But just for the record, I talked to him about it. He told me that he’s my patient, so I get to see it through. That’s all there is to it.”

“Yeah, of course,” Bucky says. His face is a little red with embarrassment, and he tries to apologize again, “I’m so-”

“Like I said, don’t worry about it. We don’t have to talk about it,” Steve replies quickly. The whole moment has given him a strange feeling in his gut, something between guilt and frustration and maybe a hint of regret, and he just wants it to be over. “I’m sure I’d be thinking the same thing if I were you.”

The spot at the sink clears, and Steve walks away from the conversation to brush his teeth. Behind him, he hears Natasha and Bucky whispering back and forth, and then another voice, Sam’s, joins in, but he lets it fade to background noise as he stares at his own reflection in the mirror. He looks exactly how he feels - exhausted, stressed, annoyed. The bags under his eyes seem to be growing darker and bigger by the second if that’s possible, and his hair has fallen down to cover the top of his forehead. He sticks his hand under the water and tries to smooth his hair back into place. It works to some degree, but he still looks worse for wear. 

He finishes at the sink and returns his things to his locker, and the whispering suddenly comes to a stop. He feels the eyes on the back of his head before he turns to look at his so-called friends. “What?”

They all pretend that they weren’t just talking about him, and Bucky clears his throat, “So Steve, Natasha told me that you were looking for a roommate.”

Steve frowns, “I don’t remember mentioning that.”

“You did,” Natasha said, “Sometime around three a.m. You said that you had two spare bedrooms you didn’t know what to do with, and I asked how the hell you have two spare bedrooms in New York, and then you got all weird about it and never answered. But, long story short, you need a roommate. Or roommates, I guess.”

“Three a.m.,” Steve repeats, trying to jog his memory. He comes up with nothing, the night becoming a blur of labs and patients and pages to the ER in his mind. “Don’t remember that. Don’t really need a roommate, either.”

“So you’re just going to ignore the question of how you even have two spare bedrooms?” Sam asks incredulously. 

“My dad died a year ago and left me his place,” Steve answers with the bare minimum of information. He doesn’t like to talk about his relationship with his dad, not with anyone. 

Bucky leans against his locker, coming closer to Steve. There’s a seemingly innocent smile on his face as he says, “So what I’m hearing is that you have two spare bedrooms and don’t really need rent money.”

“And what I’m hearing is you trying to live at my place rent free.”

“Come on, Steve,” Bucky’s voice raises an octave. “I live with my parents. I can’t afford anywhere close to here by myself. We’re friends. You said so yourself. Friends don’t let friends live with their parents in their late twenties.”

Steve gives him a long, assessing look. Bucky’s eyes are wide in a desperate, almost pathetic plea, and it takes all of ten seconds for Steve to break. He sighs, “Fine. But you’re paying rent. Utilities are still a thing, you know.”

Bucky grins, “I swear you won’t regret it.”

“I already do,” Steve says, closing his locker and turning to lean his back against it. “You better not be a slob.”

“I’ll clean up after myself so well that you won’t even know I’m there.”

Sam slides his way into the conversation, sounding just as falsely innocent as Bucky did earlier, “So you have two spare bedrooms. What are you going to do with the other one? Because I live in Queens right now, and the commute is a long as hell. You live, what? Five blocks from here? Must be nice, getting to walk here.”

“Oh my God,” Steve groans. He throws his head back, hitting it against his locker. “Fine. That’s just great. We’ll spend every waking moment together.”

Sam smiles, and when he high fives Bucky it becomes clear that this was an ambush all along - getting him when he’s exhausted and too weak to come up with a clear argument as to why being roommates with your coworkers is a bad idea. 

“You guys suck,” Steve says, though there’s no real feeling behind it. A part of him will admit that he is enjoying the sudden friendship they’ve created and how easily they all went along with it, though that part will never be voiced.

Natasha muffles a laugh with her hand, and Steve glares down at her, “You did this on purpose.”

“I will neither confirm nor deny that accusation,” she says. Her eyes are glinting with mischief, and Steve knows the answer anyway. 

Steve sighs, lifting his head to look at his new roommates. “I’ll get keys made tomorrow, okay? You can move in any time.”

Sam smiles, “Thanks, Steve.”

“I promise not to ruin your life,” Bucky says with a wide grin, and Steve doesn’t even have the energy to be properly alarmed by that.

Natasha stands and clips her pager to her waistband, then puts one hand on Steve’s shoulder and the other on Sam’s. She looks between the three of them and laughs, “You guys are going to have so much fun together.”

Dr. Potts appears in the doorway of the locker room, announcing that it’s time for rounds, and Natasha drops her hands to lead their group out the door. They make their way through various patients, trying to answer the questions that are thrown their way. Between the four of them, they get almost all of the answers, which seems to make Dr. Potts happy, if the small quirk of her lip is any indication. 

Martin’s room is the last one they visit, and Steve’s halfway through his sentence about aortic stenosis and valve replacements when a hand on his arm makes him pause. He turns to see Tony, who gives him a bright smile and says, “Please continue, Dr. Rogers.”

“Right,” Steve searches for where he left off, and he has to look away from Tony to find it again. “Mr. Johnson was diagnosed yesterday with aortic stenosis, which means his aortic valve is narrowing. He’s scheduled for valve replacement surgery to fix the problem this afternoon.”

Dr. Potts gives him a long look and eventually passes him the chart for Martin while saying, “You’re with Dr. Stark today.”

Everyone but Steve and Tony leaves the room, off to their own assignments, and Steve clutches the chart to his chest as he watches Tony walk over to Martin. They talk, and Tony cracks jokes the entire time that have Martin laughing as if he isn’t hours away from open heart surgery. Steve’s amazed by it - the way Tony makes patients feel comfortable like that. He makes it look so easy, like it’s second nature to him. Steve doesn’t even realize that he’s been staring in admiration until Tony steps away from Martin and looks at him. Steve quickly diverts his gaze, looking instead to the heart monitor beeping steadily next to the bed. 

Tony clears his throat rather loudly and says, “Well, Mr. Johnson. I’ll be seeing you later, then. Dr. Rogers will be back to prep you for surgery at around one, alright?”

Martin nods, and Steve follows Tony out of the room. Tony doesn’t waste a second before jumping into conversation. “You know what I decided this morning? New York is so much better than LA. Better people, better weather. I know that literally no one says that about New York, but I actually like the cold sometimes. LA doesn’t have winter and their fall is pathetic. I should have never left.”

Steve doesn’t have a clue where the topic has come from, but he decides to roll with it, “So why did you? Leave, that is.” 

“Stupidity,” Tony says. They’ve come to a stop next to the door to the stairs, and Tony leans against the wall and sighs. “Followed someone I thought I loved. I was wrong.” He says it simply, devoid of any emotion or hint of sadness, but Steve’s heart aches anyway. 

“I’m sorry,” is all Steve can think to say.

Tony shrugs, “Don’t be.” He straightens back up and pushes the door open. Once again Steve follows as he starts down the stairs. “Besides, that’s not the point.”

“You had a point?”

Tony gives him a scathing look over his shoulder, “I’ve always got a point, darling.”

Steve ignores the feeling that blossoms in his chest at the name and asks, “So what is then?”

Steve steps down from the bottom stair, onto the landing between floors, and Tony stops walking, turning to face him instead. Tony places his hand on Steve’s hip, casually, as if he’s done it a million times before. He looks up at Steve, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“The point, Steve, is that I’m telling you things about myself.”

“Oh,” Steve mumbles. It’s distracting to have Tony this close, where he can feel the warmth of his hand through his shirt and can smell the mint of Tony’s toothpaste. “Why?”

Tony laughs, “Because that’s what people do at the beginning of a relationship. They share things. Do you not know that?”

“Well, we’re not in a relationship, though, are we?” 

“We’re getting there,” Tony replies. He looks down at the spot where his thumb is rubbing slow circles into Steve’s hip, and his smile turns strangely soft. “I’ll slowly infiltrate your life, one fact about myself at a time.” 

“Interesting plan,” Steve murmurs. 

Tony looks back up, brown eyes seeming to shine with intensity. “Is it working yet? Are you overcome with the urge to make out with me right here? Because I gotta say I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

Steve laughs and pulls back, starting down the next set of stairs. Tony trails a few steps behind and keeps talking, “Okay, what if I told you that my middle name is Edward and that I don’t really like it all that much? Not that I think anyone is a big fan of their middle name, but I think mine just sounds -”

They’ve reached another landing, and Steve cuts Tony off by backing him against the wall. One hand tilts Tony’s jaw up, the other splays out on the wall next to Tony’s head as he leans in to kiss him. He kisses Tony until he’s out of breath, then just as abruptly as he started it he pulls away again. 

Tony looks at him with wide eyes, “That really worked?”

“No,” Steve laughs again. He opens the door to the first floor, and before walking out he says, “Just wanted you to shut up.”

“Oh, that’s just not fair,” Tony jogs a few steps to catch up to him. “Here I was thinking that we made real progress.”

“Guess you’re just going to have to work a little harder, doll,” Steve teases, emboldened by the kiss. 

“I’m an only child,” Tony blurts.

“Me too.”

“I don’t like asparagus.”

Steve gives him a questioning look and is met in return with another brilliant smile. “Has this tactic ever worked for you?”

“Never tried it before,” Tony replies. 

“It shows.”

“You like it,” Tony declares with confidence. 

“Do not,” Steve says. He’s lying, of course, but he won’t admit it to Tony. He won’t tell him that he wants to know more, until there’s almost nothing he doesn’t know about him. 

Tony sees through it, “You do. You’d love to know that I prefer waffles over pancakes and I drink my coffee black. And you might want to remember that for the next time I’m at your place.”

“Awfully presumptuous, aren’t you?”

“I prefer to call it optimistic,” Tony says. “Though I’ll admit I’m generally more of a pessimist. Glass tends to be half empty over here, but I’m making an exception for you.”

They end up in front of the doors to the ER, and Steve knows that once they walk through them that they’ll have to put an end to the flirty banter he’s come to really like and act like real doctors again with jobs to do, so he hesitates in front of them to draw it out for just a little longer.

“Why is that?” he asks.

Tony smiles, “I don’t know. I’ve just got a good feeling about it.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long! I promise the rest will not have this long of a gap between them, and I also promise that they will be longer.

Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Natasha sit in the basement of the hospital in what has quickly become their spot. Bucky and Natasha pass a bag of chips back and forth as they laugh about a patient they just dealt with, and Steve bounces his leg restlessly while trying not to look at his watch again. 

“You look nervous,” Sam says, sliding a stack of charts from his lap and onto the gurney. 

“What? No, I’m not nervous,” Steve says. He forces himself to sit still as if to prove his point, but the anxious energy transfers itself so he’s biting his lip instead.

“It’s okay to be nervous, you know.”

“I’m not nervous,” he repeats. It’s a lie, but if he keeps saying it he might start to believe it. That’s another thing he keeps telling himself.

“But if you were, that would be okay,” Sam says. “It’s your first real time in the OR with your first real patient.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” Steve mumbles under his breath, and his leg starts bouncing again. 

Sam puts his hand on his knee, stopping the movement. He keeps his hand there until Steve meets his eyes, where the quiet concern is enough to make Steve confess, “Alright, I’m a little nervous. But I know I shouldn’t be. It’s not like I’m the one making the cut or replacing the valve myself, and Tony knows what he’s doing. He’s the head of cardio, of course he knows what he’s doing. It’s going to be fine.”

Sam nods, “Yeah, it is going to be fine. Right, guys?”

“Of course,” Natasha quickly says.

Bucky swallows his mouth full of chips and says, “Can’t kill a guy if you never touch him.”

Natasha elbows his arm, but she’s barely suppressing her smile as she says, “That’s not helpful.” 

“It’s actually kind of helpful,” Steve laughs. “Apparently I’ll be lucky to even be on suction, so there’s literally nothing I can do wrong.”

“See?” Bucky grins at Natasha. “I’m great at emotional support.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but she fully smiles this time. “Shouldn’t you be prepping him for surgery right now, Steve?” 

“Already did,” he shakes his head. “Then it got pushed back an hour because of an incoming trauma that needed the OR. Now I’m just waiting for a page.” 

“Anyone got something interesting to talk about in the meantime?” Sam looks to Bucky and Natasha. “Because I’m going to break Steve’s leg if he keeps shaking the gurney.”

“I had a 95 year old patient tell me I reminded her of her grandson,” Bucky offers. “Then she said he never visits her and he lives in Florida, so I think it was an insult.”

Natasha laughs, “What did you do to her?”

“To make her hate me? Not really sure. I think it might be my hair,” Bucky says, running a hand through his long hair. “Do you guys think I should cut it?”

“Yes,” Sam is the first to answer, without a second of hesitation.

Bucky glares at him, “Okay, that’s one vote for yes. Nat?”

Natasha gives him a long, assessing look, then decides, “You’d look more professional with short hair.”

“Damn it,” Bucky sighs. “Steve? What do you think?” 

The pager on his waistband goes off, saving him from the conversation, and he grabs it immediately, “I don’t know, but I gotta go. See you guys later.”

There’s a chorus of ‘good luck’ in reply, and he takes the stairs up to Martin’s room. He pauses just outside the door to take a calming breath before entering. Smiling, he says, “We’re ready for you now, Martin.” 

Martin nods, sharp and quick, and Steve wonders what he’s supposed to say in this moment. It should be something reassuring, or possibly distracting to get Martin’s mind off the fact that a piece of his heart is about to be replaced, but he doesn’t know what. He tries to think back to medical school and the drills about bedside manner, but it’s different now that the patient is right in front of him and clearly scared about the procedure. 

“Are you feeling okay, Martin?” he asks softly as he adjusts the various wires and machines Martin is still attached to for transport. 

“Yeah,” Martin nods again, trying for a smile but it looks forced. “I’m good. Ready.”

Steve continues unhooking the unnecessary machinery, then starts moving the bed into the hall. He aims for casual as he asks, “Do you want to run through it again? So you know what’s about to happen?”

“That might be good.”

“Okay, so when we get into the OR and you’re under, we’re going to hook you up to what we call the heart-lung machine, which is going to make sure your body has all the oxygen it needs while we fix your heart. Then Dr. Stark is going to remove your bad valve and replace it with the mechanical valve, and just like that you’ve got a functioning heart again. In two hours you’ll be good as new.”

“Good as new,” Martin repeats as they get in the elevator. “I like that part better than the rest of it.”

Steve presses the button for the third floor and laughs, “That’s the only part you’ve got to think about. We can worry about the rest for you.”

This time when Martin nods, it’s slower and more relaxed. The elevator opens, and Steve pushes the bed toward the OR. Another doctor meets him at the door to take Martin in, while Steve goes off to the scrub room.

As he finishes tying the scrub cap around his head, Tony walks into the room, with his scrub cap already on. It’s hotter than it should be, with the red cap concealing his dark hair almost completely, a few small curls sticking out from the sides. Something about it makes the breath catch in his throat, and his hands drop uselessly to his sides.

Tony starts scrubbing his hands, and Steve takes it as a cue to do the same. He keeps his gaze locked on Martin through the window, and he feels more than sees the glances Tony directs his way. 

“You look nervous,” Tony says.

Steve looks over at him, not expecting the kind expression he receives. He was expecting amusement, some hint of mockery at Steve’s obvious nerves, but there isn’t any.

“So I’ve been told.”

“Yeah? Who told you that?”

“My friends, who made sure to remind me that there’s no way I could kill this guy, because I won’t be touching him,” Steve keeps his tone light and gets a small laugh from Tony.

“That’s technically true,” Tony smiles. “So who are these friends of yours who provide such comforting wisdom?”

“The rest of my intern group. Sam, Natasha, Bucky,” Steve replies.

“Bucky?” Now there’s amusement in his voice. “Someone actually named their child that? Seems cruel.”

Steve laughs, “I think it’s just a nickname. Haven’t asked him where it came from yet, but I know his real name is James.”

“Perfect opportunity for another fun fact about me,” Tony says. “I have a best friend named James, and he also refuses to be called that. He’s a surgeon with the Air Force. We went to med school together way back when.”

“And just how long ago was way back when?” Steve asks. He shuts off the water and leans his hip against the sink. “I’m not sure I want to date an old man.”

Tony makes a shocked sound, “I am not an old man.” 

Steve grins, “Then answer the question.”

“Fine,” Tony rolls his eyes. “I’m 36.”

“What? How?” Steve tries to do the math in his head, but it really shouldn’t be possible to be the head of cardio that young, let alone the head of cardio at a hospital as good as this one.

Tony shrugs and reaches for a surgical mask. As he ties it, he says, “That’s what happens when you start college at fifteen.”

“Fifteen?” Steve repeats.

“Graduated at eighteen, too,” Tony smiles, clearly enjoying Steve’s surprise, before he pulls the mask over his mouth and walks away to leave Steve processing that fact. He watches Tony talk to Martin through the window while Tony dries his hands and gets his gloves on. 

Steve ties his own surgical mask and enters the OR. The nerves faded during his conversation with Tony, but they come back in full force the second his gloves are on. 

He hovers behind the other surgeons while they get started, getting Martin under anesthesia. Tony makes the first incision, and Steve leans forward to get a better look. In medical school he’d seen plenty of footage, even watched from galleries and a few times from inside the OR, but it’s different to know that he’s actually a doctor now and sometime in the not so distant future he’ll be the one making that incision. 

After the heart-lung machine is attached, Tony glances over his shoulder and says, “Think you can handle holding a clamp, Rogers?”

“Seriously?” Steve’s heart starts to beat a little faster, and he stands up even straighter. “I can do that.”

“Come on, then,” Tony says, tilting his head toward the patient. 

He steps closer, coming to stand on the other side of Tony, who’s getting ready to place the clamp, and he can’t help the soft “wow” that escapes his mouth when he looks at the heart in front of him. For a moment he lets himself revel in the feeling. He knows it won’t always be like this, new and exciting, and he wants to commit this exact feeling to memory, leaving it there for all the days it doesn’t feel like this. 

Tony places the clamp, looking up at Steve as he takes it from him, “First time’s always fun, isn’t it?”

Steve laughs, but it comes out a little breathless. “Thank you for this.”

Tony doesn’t answer other than a quiet hum, then a request for a scalpel from the scrub nurse. Steve watches the rest of the surgery from there, mesmerized by the ease with which Tony operates, the clean lines and expert movements. The time passes quickly like that, and soon enough they’re ready to restart Martin’s heart. It takes a few, long moments before it happens, but the heart starts beating, and to Steve it feels like he’s just witnessed a miracle. 

When they’ve closed and it’s all over, Steve leans against the wall in the scrub room. The other surgeons come and go from the room, while he stares off into space. He barely notices Tony walking in. 

“Hey,” Tony says softly, and Steve lifts his head to look at him. “You alright?”

Steve smiles, “Yeah, that was… it was incredible.”

Tony nods and comes to stand next to Steve, leaning against the wall a few inches away. “I always like it when the new round of interns comes in.”

“Why is that?”

“Because it’s easy to forget how it felt in the beginning,” Tony says. “After a while, when you’ve done so many operations that it feels like you could do it in your sleep, you forget just how amazing it really is. You don’t mean to, you don’t want to. It just happens. But then someone like you looks at heart that’s just restarted like it’s magic, and suddenly it is again, just like that. Magic.”

Steve turns his head to look at Tony, who looks up at him in return. “I’m glad I could make you feel the magic again.”

“Yeah,” Tony smiles. “Me too.” 


	5. Chapter 5

“What the hell is this?” Steve asks as he enters the kitchen, freezing in the doorway. The counter is buried somewhere under a mess of dishes, dirty pans, and food. There’s a dusting of flour on the floor, and Bucky and Sam sit at the kitchen table as though nothing is wrong.

Bucky shrugs, looking up from the newspaper in front of him, “Breakfast.”

“There’s some pancakes over there for you,” Sam says as he sips his coffee. He scrolls through his phone, and neither of them even look at Steve.

“What happened to ‘so clean you won’t even know I’m there’? Because  _ this _ ,” Steve gestures at the mess in front of him, “is not that.”

“Turns out that Bucky’s not a good cook,” Sam says. 

“Hey,” Bucky slaps Sam on the arm with the newspaper. “I’m an excellent cook. I’m just not an organized cook. Don’t worry, Stevie, we’ll clean it up later.”

Steve decides not to comment on the use of the nickname - it’s certainly not the worst thing anyone’s ever called him. He reaches for the bowl that’s dripping pancake batter onto the counter and puts it in the sink, then does the same with the utensils that are scattered around. He stops cleaning when his stomach loudly reminds him that he needs to eat before work, and he locates the plate of pancakes Sam was referring to. 

Joining Sam and Bucky at the table, Steve takes a bite and is pleasantly surprised to find that Bucky can actually cook, even though the pancakes have gone cold. 

“So am I going to wake up every day to a different kind of disaster?” Steve asks when the pancakes are halfway gone. Yesterday was bickering in the hallway over whose room is bigger, with Bucky swearing he should have gotten the bigger one because he asked to move in first. The day before that was an argument over who got to shower first, which Steve settled by just agreeing to take the cold last shower. At least today he could be grateful for the moderate peace between Sam and Bucky, who seem to enjoy annoying each other as much as possible. 

“You were an only child, right?” Bucky asks, and Steve nods. “Did you ever wonder what having siblings would be like?”

“Of course,” Steve replies.

Sam gestures to the room, “This is it.”

“Welcome to the brother experience,” Bucky grins. “And just like real siblings, you’re never getting rid of us.”

For some reason, that eliminates almost all of the annoyance he was feeling, replacing it with something much warmer. He laughs, “Why would I want to get rid of you?”

“Because we started a prank war yesterday, and you’re definitely going to get caught in the crossfire,” Bucky replies.

Steve drops his fork, and it lands with a clang against the plate. He pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath before asking, “Why?”

“Bucky started it,” Sam says at the same time that Bucky says, “It’s his fault.”

They exchange glares, and Steve realizes that the peace between them was merely the calm before the storm. 

“You started it,” Bucky accuses. “You put salt in the sugar bowl so I drank salted coffee.”

“That was after you woke me up with an air horn.”

“Which was after you -”

Steve stops listening at that, finishing off the last of his pancakes and putting the plate in the sink. He walks up the stairs to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and when he comes back down they’re still going. 

“Can we set some ground rules for this at least?” Steve interrupts, and they both fall silent to look at him. “Like ‘no pranking in communal areas where Steve can be the accidental victim’?”

“I don’t know about that one,” Bucky says.

Sam shakes his head, “You’d be taking away a lot of opportunities.”

“Fine,” Steve sighs. “Then at least warn me of any pranks that might affect me. Just let me know if I need to avoid eating something or sitting somewhere or opening a door.”

Bucky and Sam exchange another look, then seem to reach a silent agreement. Sam speaks for both of them, “We can do that.”

With that settled, Steve grabs his coat from the hooks next to the door and slides it on. “Also, I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this, but no pranks at the hospital. Nat might kill you if you prank her.”

“No new pranks at the hospital,” Bucky says as he stands from the table to get his own coat. “Got it.”

“New pranks? What does that mean?”

“It means that Bucky might not like it when he opens his locker today,” Sam says.

“And Sam might not like what he finds in the pocket of his scrubs.”

Steve sighs again, “Let’s just go before we’re late for rounds. We can talk about the fact that I’m living with two six year olds later.”

Sam scoffs as he opens the front door, “Six? We’re at least ten, thank you.”

“That’s a stretch,” Steve can’t keep the fondness out of his voice now, and he wonders when that started to take root - when in the last week and a half they went from strangers to some sort of instant family. He likes it, though, the feeling of having a family again. He didn’t realize just how much he missed it until he found it again. 

“If we’re children, does that make you our dad?” Bucky teases, throwing his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

“God,” Steve snorts, “Hell no.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes his shoulder before letting go. They walk down the street in comfortable silence, until Sam leans over to whisper, “Maybe don’t use the toaster for the next few days.”

Steve looks at him, ready to ask why, but Sam presses a finger to his own lips and he keeps quiet. His toaster is a small price to pay, he supposes, for what’s definitely going to be an interesting few days.

Bucky doesn’t notice the exchange, “I know it goes against the whole ‘do no harm’ thing, but is it weird that I’m kind of hoping for a really gruesome injury today? The last few days have pretty much sucked.”

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it,” Steve admits. “Yesterday was boring. I did nine rectal exams.”

“You only thought it was boring because it was Stark’s day off,” Sam laughs. 

“What?” Steve’s voice sounds too high, and he clears his throat before continuing, “That’s not true. I didn’t even notice. I mean, I noticed, but I didn’t care. I don’t care if he’s there or not.”

“Wow, Steve. You really missed your calling as an actor,” Bucky says. “You would have been the next Brad Pitt.”

Steve feels the blush forming, “Shut up. I didn’t care.”

“So you weren’t disappointed when you paged cardio and Hammer showed up instead?” Sam questions, eyebrows raised like he’s challenging Steve to try and lie about it. He lies through his teeth anyway, “Of course not. Hammer’s great. Just as good as Tony.” 

“You hate him,” Bucky says. “Nat said you called him an arrogant asshole.”

“Not to his face,” Steve mumbles. 

Sam claps his hand on Steve’s shoulder, “You could just ask him out, you know. Stark, not Hammer. Obviously.”

“I think we passed that point.”

“How?”

Steve shrugs, “I don’t know. I feel like I’m waiting for something to happen. Some kind of moment.”

“A moment,” Bucky repeats.

“A moment.”

“What kind of moment?” Sam asks.

“Don’t know yet. I’ll know it when it happens.”

“You’ll know it when it happens,” Bucky repeats his words again. “And until then? You’re going to keep flirting in stairwells? In the OR?”

“We didn’t flirt in the OR,” Steve says firmly, even though they definitely had some kind of moment. A moment right after when Steve was too amazed to even speak properly, and Tony looked at him with the kind of smile that made his eyes crease around the edges and talked about magic. But the moment was after, when no one was around to witness it. 

“I’m sure you’re just building up to it, though,” Bucky says. “First it’s stairwells, then the ER. Don’t pretend like that one didn’t happen.”

Steve laughs, “He started it.”

“You know, Sam and I tried that excuse this morning, and you called us children. Remember that?”

“Because you tried it on each other over a prank war,” Steve points out. “Which I would be willing to bet you started, by the way.”

“I did not!”

“If I’m Brad Pitt then you’re Leonardo DiCaprio,” Steve jokes. 

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment,” Bucky says.

Steve hums, letting the topic drop. Eventually the topic drifts back into work and patients and procedures, and it stays there until they reach the hospital elevator. They get inside, and Steve presses the button for the second floor. Just before the doors can close a hand darts in between them. 

Tony looks just as surprised to see Steve as Steve feels to see him, though he covers it rather quickly with a smile. He steps into the space directly next to Steve after selecting a different floor, almost touching his shoulder to Steve’s upper arm, but not quite. “Good morning, Dr. Rogers.”

Steve nods, “Dr. Stark.”

Behind him, he can hear the snickers coming from his friends, and Tony must hear them, too. He looks over his shoulder, “Wilson, Barnes. Good morning to you, too.”

The doors open to their floor, and Steve glares at Sam and Bucky the second they’ve closed again, taking Tony up to another floor. Bucky is unaffected by the look, though, continuing to giggle as he says, “Wow, that’s a heavy dose of sexual tension for six am.”

Sam slings his arm around Steve shoulder’s, steering him to the locker room in the process. “Let’s revisit the suggestion of asking him out, shall we?”

“When did you become so cool with this?” Steve asks. 

“Okay, I’ll admit I wasn’t on board with it at first,” Sam says. “I still think it’s weird to date your boss, but that’s your choice to make, not mine. So I’m being a good friend and telling you to just go for it already. There’s a zero percent chance of rejection, Steve.”

“I told you, I’m waiting for the right moment.”

“Sounds like an excuse, but whatever, man,” Sam says, dropping his arm as they walk into the locker room and head for the back. 

“It’s not an excuse,” Steve argues, then sighs, “Okay, it might be sort of an excuse. But honestly, the flirting’s fun. It’s nice and light, and relationships are complicated and messy and the exact opposite of light.”

Bucky pauses with his hand on his combination lock, “So you’re scared of a relationship, and the moment thing is definitely an excuse not to have to address that.”

“I -” Steve hesitates. “Maybe. I don’t know. Can we just not talk about it anymore? Maybe never again?”

Bucky presses on, though it’s more joking as he says, “Do you have some deep-seated emotional trauma you need to deal with? Who hurt you, Steve?” 

Steve laughs, “No one hurt me. I don’t have emotional trauma.”

Bucky turns back to his locker, twisting the lock for a final time and opening the door. Steve had completely forgotten about the prank until dozens of bouncy balls fall from the locker. They hit the floor and scatter throughout the locker room, rolling into other intern’s spaces and causing quite the scene.

“Oh my God,” Steve says, laughing hysterically now as he watches Bucky turn to Sam with narrowed eyes.

“This is an act of war,” Bucky says with a finger pointed at Sam.

“We’re already at war,” Sam crosses his arms over his chest.

Steve collects himself enough to remind them, “Hey, no new pranks at the hospital. Please keep the war at home.”

They continue glaring at each other for a long time, while Steve changes into his scrubs and starts gathering the bouncy balls from the floor. It takes Natasha walking in for the stalemate to break. 

“What’s happening here?” 

Steve answers for them, “Prank war, apparently. You tricked me into letting children live in my apartment, and now there’s a war happening.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, “I didn’t trick you. You wouldn’t have let them move in if you didn’t want them there.”

“I was conned,” Steve says insistently. “I’m too nice for my own good, and now I can’t use my toaster anymore.”

“You love them,” Natasha says.

“I tolerate them.”

Natasha smiles as she opens her own locker, “Sure you do.” She pulls on her the top of her scrubs over her long sleeve shirt and turns to Sam, “If you need any ideas, come to me.”

Bucky’s jaw drops, “What the fuck? You’re on his team now?”

“He could use the help,” Natasha shrugs. “Bouncy balls in a locker aren’t very original.”

“Happy to have you on the team, though I’m a little offended for the reason,” Sam says. He sticks his hand out, and Natasha shakes it as though a prank war is a serious business deal.

“Fine, then I get Steve.”

Steve shakes his head, “Oh, no. I’m not involved in this.”

“Please,” Bucky whines, sticking his bottom lip out in a sad pout. “It’ll be fun, I promise. Please, Stevie. Please, please, please.”

“This is how I got sucked into being your roommate.”

“Which was the best decision you ever made,” Bucky says.

“One of us really has to be the responsible adult in this group, you know,” Steve replies.

Bucky closes his locker as he finishes changing his clothes and switches to a new tactic, “What if I do your post-op notes for two weeks?”

“Deal. I was going to say yes anyway, but that’s even better,” Steve answers. “Nat, I can’t believe you’re doing this, too. I really thought you were going to be the responsible one here.”

Natasha grins, “You thought wrong. Though I will be the one to remind everyone that we should clean this up.”

The four of them collect the bouncy balls from around the room, earning some glares from the other interns who did not seem to appreciate the prank and managing to finish just before rounds. 

Rounds pass quickly, and Steve heads down to the ER with Bucky when they’re done. In the elevator, Bucky whispers, “We need to come up with something really good. Do you have any ideas?”

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because we’re conspiring, Stevie.”

“I think you’re taking this a little too seriously.”

“Or you’re not taking it seriously enough,” Bucky replies, still whispering.

The elevator opens to the first floor, and Steve says, “I’m taking it as seriously as any adult would take a prank war.”

“Come on, Steve. You’re involved in it no matter what, so you might as well have fun with it. Join me in slowly destroying the sanity of our roommate.”

Steve debates the idea in his head for just a few seconds and decides, “Okay, you’re right. I’ll think about ideas.”

Bucky triumphantly pumps his fist in the air, “We’re going to win this war.”

Steve pushes the door open to ER and glances around. It’s relatively inactive, only a couple of beds taken up. 

“Hey,” Bucky elbows him in the ribs, then tilts his chin to the desk. He follows the movement until his eyes land on Tony, who’s sitting behind the computer typing. “You should go see if this is your moment.” 

Bucky was definitely being sarcastic, but Steve takes the invitation to walk toward Tony anyway. He tries to seem casual as he takes a chart from the stack, pretending to look it over while he waits for Tony to notice that he’s there. By the time he’s read the same page four times, he realizes that isn’t going to happen, and he fakes a cough and clears his throat.

Tony glances up just long enough to say, “Oh, hey, Steve.”

“Hey,” Steve says. He wishes he had something more to say, something that would start up the flirty banter he desperately wants, but that’s not really his forte. Instead, he says the only thing that comes to mind, “If you were somehow dragged into a prank war with your roommates, what kind of prank would you do?”

It seems to catch his attention, and he looks up with confusion on his face, “I have so many questions about that. First of all, you have roommates? Did you always have roommates, or is that a new thing? Second of all, how were you dragged into a prank war?”

“Sam and Bucky moved in with me,” Steve replies. He drops the chart back into the pile, no longer needing the illusion, and leans against the desk in front of Tony. “I had the space in my apartment, and they needed a new place to live. They started a prank war against each other yesterday, then Nat joined Sam’s team.”

The confusion changes into amusement as Tony fills in the rest, “So you joined Bucky’s.”

“I couldn’t leave him hanging,” Steve shrugs. 

“Of course not.” 

Tony pushes the chair back from the computer, rounding the desk to stand next to Steve. He leans against the counter, and Steve asks again, “So, what would you do?”

Tony gives him a long look, eyebrows knit together and the corner of his mouth quirked into a half-smile. “Think I need some time to think about that one. And to process all this new information about you.”

“What new information?”

“I’m gone for two days, and now you’ve got roommates.”

“Technically the roommates thing happened last week,” Steve says. He doesn’t know if the question will be welcome, but he asks anyway, “And where were you for two days?”

Tony smirks, “Did you miss me?”

The answer is out of his mouth before he can stop it, “Yes.”

Tony’s eyebrows shoot up, and his lips part in surprise. He laughs, a short, shocked sound, and says, “I had some things to take care of.”

“How vague,” Steve smiles. 

Tony recovers his easy confidence quickly, “I’ll tell you more at dinner tonight.”

“I’m here all night.”

“That’s not exactly a no, though, is it?” Tony says, leaning in closer to Steve. 

“No, I suppose it isn’t.”

Tony opens his mouth to reply, but his pager interrupts. He frowns, “I’m really starting to think the pager was the worst invention ever.” 

Steve is inclined to agree as his own pager beeps, and he checks the small screen. “Incoming traumas.”

They clip their pagers back into place and walk together to the ambulance loading dock to get trauma gowns. Tony grabs one and hands it to Steve, then moves behind him to tie it for him. Steve can feel the warmth of Tony’s breath on his skin as he asks, “So if you weren’t here tonight, what would you have said?”

“I don’t know,” Steve answers. Tony’s fingers brush against him, even through the layers of his clothing the contact makes him shiver. When Tony’s finished with the tie, Steve turns around. “You’ll just have to ask again some other time.”

Tony smiles, “Trust me, I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering what episode we're on now, this chapter and the next one are based on episode three. Episode's one and two kinda merged together in the first few chapters.
> 
> Thank you to everyone that's left comments, given kudos, subscribed, bookmarked, or read this fic!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so sorry for the long gap between updates. Honestly, I don't even have an excuse except for writing is just hard sometimes.

The incoming traumas are nothing like Steve’s ever seen before. The back of the first ambulance opens, and Steve has to hold back the shocked gasp that threatens to escape as he sees the broken femur penetrating the skin of the patient. The bone is more outside than inside at this point. Bucky is next to him and reacts first, sounding far too excited as he says, “Oh, that guy is definitely mine.”

Steve doesn’t bother arguing, waiting for the next ambulance to open. The patient is a man about Steve’s age, with dark hair pushed back by a bandana wrapped around his forehead. He’s laughing with the paramedic, seemingly unfazed by the bicycle spokes embedded in his side, and he turns to Steve with a crooked smile.

As they get the gurney down from the ambulance and through the doors, Steve asks, “What happened?”

“Car accident,” the paramedic supplies. They push the gurney into an empty trauma room, and the man with the spokes fills in, “Some asshole drove right into the sidewalk.”

They transfer the man to the bed, propping up the top half a little, and Steve gets a closer look at the injury while the paramedics leave. The three spokes have torn away a section of his t-shirt, and he gently prods the bare skin around them to get a sense of how deep they are. 

“What’s your name?” he asks as he removes his hands. 

“Viper.”

Steve looks up, and he doesn’t exactly know what to do with that, so he pushes past it, “And how were you involved in the accident, Viper?”

“I was racing with some friends, and I was winning, by the way, when the car came up onto the sidewalk,” Viper looks annoyed as he speaks, but a grin takes over as he adds, “Guess it’s not all bad, though. Doctors have gotten a lot hotter since the last time I was in the hospital.”

Steve blushes, “Your injury’s probably not that bad, but I’d like to take you for a CT to make sure there’s no internal bleeding.”

“What? No, I don’t need that,” Viper sits up straight, barely concealing the wince as the spokes dig into him with the movement. “I’ve got a race to get back to.”

“Haven’t you already lost?” Steve raises his eyebrows.

“That’s not the point.”

“And what is the point?” 

“The point is finishing the race. There’s no prize for winning, but there’s a hell of a penalty for not finishing.”

Steve decides he doesn’t want to ask about the penalty, not that it’s any of his business, anyway. “Well, we can get the CT right now, and as long as there’s no internal bleeding I can stitch you up and you can get back to your race.” He turns to reach for a chart, grabbing a pen to make some quick notes before taking Viper to CT. He doesn’t notice Viper taking matters into his own hands before it’s too late. 

“Or,” Viper says, drawing Steve’s attention back to him. The spokes are in his hand, blood steadily coming from the wound now. “You could stitch me up now, and I can get back to my race right away.”

Steve stares at him, eyes darting between the wound and the spokes he’s holding, and he can’t think clearly enough to form a sentence. 

Viper smiles, “Come on, I haven’t got all day. I’ve gotta cross the finish line by noon.”

“You still need a CT,” Steve chokes out, tossing the incomplete chart on the counter. He stands next to the gurney to inspect the injury again. “You could have punctured your liver or a kidney or something. Jesus, you could have ruptured your peritoneum.”

“No can do, sweetheart,” Viper laughs. “Just the stitches will do.”

“It’ll only take an hour,” Steve says, trying his best to sound and look convincing. As an afterthought he adds, “And it’s not all that appropriate to call your doctor ‘sweetheart’.”

“Maybe not, but it’s fun.” 

Steve sighs, “Just one hour to make sure you’re not bleeding internally. You’ll be out of here long before noon.”

“Like I said, no can do,” Viper tosses the spokes onto the instrument tray and looks at Steve expectantly, “Stitches, please.”

Steve relents, picking up the tools he needs for sutures as he says, “You’ll have to sign a form before you go. Acknowledge that you’re leaving against medical advice.”

“Of course, darling. Anything for you,” Viper winks, and Steve sighs again, deeper this time to match the sense of defeat he feels. Of all the patients coming in today, he had to get this one. He should’ve fought Bucky for that broken leg.

Steve doesn’t reply, instead getting to work on numbing the area before starting the sutures. It’s quiet for all of one minute before Viper murmurs, “You’ve got amazing hands. Bet they’re great at a lot of things.”

Steve laughs, mostly out of shock, “That is so incredibly inappropriate. Again.”

“I’m just complimenting your skills, Doctor,” Viper smirks. “You’ve got such a nice touch, is all.”

Steve pauses halfway through the sutures, “Do you really think you’ve got a shot here? I mean, honestly?”

“I’d like to think I’ve got a shot anywhere.”

“Maybe you would if you’d let me take you for a CT,” Steve offers, going back to the row of stitches. He’s not above flirting to help a patient, he supposes. 

Viper snaps his fingers, “Now  _ that  _ is tempting. But I really do have to get back to my race. There’s a party at the end of it, and I can’t miss it.” He leans in a little, voice dropping lower, “But you could meet me there.” 

Steve shakes his head, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Sorry, I’m a little busy. You know, helping people that actually listen to medical advice.”

Viper snorts, sitting back against the propped up back of the gurney with his arm behind his head. He watches while Steve finishes with the sutures.

Steve pulls his gloves off and tosses them in the trash, then searches through the files on the counter for the AMA form. Attaching it to a clipboard, he grabs the pen from his pocket and says, “I’d like to remind you again that you really should let me get a CT to make sure you’re not slowly dying from internal bleeding, but you’re technically free to go after you sign some forms.”

“You don’t sugarcoat things, do you?” Viper grins as he takes the clipboard and pen. He doesn’t read any of the forms as he fills out his information and signs them. When he’s done, he hops off the bed and tosses the clipboard down in his place. “Guess I’d better get back to my race.”

Viper makes a move for the door, then abruptly turns around before he can open it. One hand lands on the back of Steve’s neck, the other on his waist, and his mouth is quickly on Steve’s.

Steve freezes at first, hands in the air on either side of Viper’s body. Viper’s tongue briefly swipes across his lower lip, just before he pulls away and turns back for the door. A cocky smirk on his face, Viper says, “That was for good luck. See you around, darling.”

Steve doesn’t recover quickly enough to respond before Viper disappears through the ER doors, and he realizes after a long moment that his mouth is hanging open. He snaps his jaw shut, trying to decide if he should be flattered or appalled while he starts to clean up the trauma room so it’s ready for the next patient. He’s leaning towards flattered when he looks up and meets Tony’s eyes through the window. 

He takes off the trauma gown and discards it before opening the door. Tony looks at him with raised eyebrows, and Steve pretends to be unaffected as he brushes past him to the ER desk to deposit Viper’s signed forms. Tony follows, and while Steve can’t see his face, he can hear the incredulity in his voice as he questions, “So you’re kissing patients now? Things really did change while I was gone.”

“You sound jealous,” Steve says, allowing himself to smile with his back still turned. He schools his facial expression into something much more neutral when he turns around. 

Tony makes a small offended noise, opening and shutting his mouth a few times. His hands are on his hips, and Steve wishes that jealousy didn’t look so attractive on him. He knows that he shouldn’t like it, but there’s a part of him that’s secretly thrilled at the prospect of getting Tony worked up over something as innocuous as a handsy patient.

“No, I don’t,” Tony finally says, crossing his arms over his chest. “No jealousy here.” 

“Oh, really? Then you don’t care that he asked me out?”

“Not at all,” Tony says, voice unwavering. Steve would believe him if he couldn’t also see the way he’s clearly biting the inside of his cheek. “I’m sure you’ll be very happy with him.”

Steve smiles, “Yeah, I’m really into guys who leave against medical advice because they don’t want to lose a dumb bet with friends.”

“That makes no sense to me, but I feel the need to remind you that you’re currently in a prank war with your roommates, so I’m not really sure that you have the upperhand over that guy,” Tony smiles in return as he leans against the desk next to Steve, having shifted closer as he spoke. 

“That is unfortunately true,” Steve laughs. “But you agreed to help me with it, so we’re on the same level.” 

Tony gives a noncommittal shrug, pausing before he says, “So just so we’re clear, I’m not flirting with any patients.” Another pause, and Steve can see the uncertainty written on his face. “If you know what I mean.”

For a second, Steve really doesn’t know what he means at all. He stands there, eyebrows knit together in confusion, until it clicks. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Tony draws out the word. He pushes his hand through his hair, thoroughly disrupting its shape.

It’s such a shift from their normal style of conversation, that Steve isn’t quite sure what to do with it at first. Tony fills the silence, “Not that I’m expecting anything from you. I know, shit, I know that we’re not really - but I just thought I should, I don’t know. I thought you should know that I’m serious, I guess? If that wasn’t clear before. Fuck, this is going badly. Could you say something, please? Because I’m just going to keep talking in circles, and I could probably go for hours if you don’t stop me. Then I’ll end up saying something weird, and it’ll be even more uncomfortable than it is right now.”

“I never thought you weren’t serious,” Steve says. He leaves it at that, unwilling to say more for fear at how quickly this could devolve. Their not-quite-a-relationship feels delicately balanced, on the razor thin line between something and nothing, and he doesn’t want to do anything right now to tip them over one way or the other. Not here at least, in a relatively crowded ER where he can’t follow through. 

“Okay,” Tony says softly, the word coming out as hardly more than just a breath. He runs his hand through his hair again. “That’s - that’s good, then. I mean, if it came down to it I would totally fight that guy for you, just so you know. Not physically, because I’m honestly not sure I’d win, but in other ways.”

“What other ways?” Steve laughs.

“With my effortless charm and devastatingly good looks,” Tony replies. 

“You didn’t even meet that guy,” Steve points out. “You don’t know how charming he was.”

“Was he charming?” 

Steve pretends to think about it for much longer than necessary, before giving in, “Not nearly as much as you.”

Tony beams, clearly satisfied with that answer, “Of course not. That’d be impossible.”

“Obviously.”

He takes a few more seconds to just stand there, looking at Tony with a matching smile, before he ruefully says, “We should probably get back to work.”

Tony nods, but doesn’t move yet. “Probably.” 

Steve shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He doesn’t want to walk away, but he knows he should. “I’m just gonna…” he trails off, pointing to some area beyond Tony’s shoulder. “Patients and all that.”

Tony laughs as Steve starts to walk away, “You do that, Dr. Rogers.”

Looking over his shoulder, Steve smiles, “I’ll see you later, Dr. Stark.” 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being patient for this update! Some chapters are just harder to write than others, and this one seemed to take a lot. 
> 
> This one doesn't follow any episodes of Grey's Anatomy, because I just don't like episode 4 lol, but I think I've created something (hopefully) better in its place.

“Later” doesn’t come until the very end of the day, when Steve’s shift is almost over and he’s dead on his feet. Steve walks out of a patient’s room, chart in hand as he adds another note. He sets the chart down at the nurses’ station to finish it, and as he’s filing it away with the others, he hears Tony’s voice from down the hall. Glancing up, he watches for a moment while Tony talks to some resident. Tony’s hands are gesturing wildly as they walk down the hall in Steve’s direction, and even from a distance Steve can see the energy in his eyes. 

They stop walking at the opposite end of the nurses’ station, and a few more seconds pass before the conversation wraps up. Tony claps a hand on the resident’s shoulder, who walks down another hall while Tony reaches for a chart. 

Steve takes a quick look around to make sure no one else is around, and when he’s satisfied that they’re close enough to being alone, he leans against the nurses’ station with his elbow on the counter and chin in his hand. He’s open in his staring now, uncaring how obvious it is. Tony won’t care - hell, he’ll probably like it. 

Steve watches Tony’s hands on the chart, the pen gripped loosely in his hand as he flips through pages, and if his mind wanders to other things he’d like to see those hands doing, then he’ll just chalk it up to the long day. 

He waits until Tony’s putting the chart back to speak, “You’re here awfully late.”

Tony jumps at the sound of his voice, head snapping up to look at him, and he smiles when he meets Steve’s eyes. “My dinner plans fell through. Had to find some way to fill the time.”

Steve laughs, then says, “Seriously, though. It’s almost midnight.”

Tony frowns and looks down at his watch. “Huh. I guess it is.”

“You didn’t notice that you’ve been here for sixteen hours?”

“No,” Tony shrugs. “I got pulled into a surgery on my way out, and I guess that was about five hours ago.”

“What kind of surgery?” Steve asks immediately, wishing he’d spent the last five hours in the operating room instead of doing scut in the pit.

“Repair for an aortic aneurysm. One of the biggest I’ve ever seen. Almost seven centimeters. Can’t believe the guy didn’t get it checked out before. He was having chest pains for weeks, maybe months now, but some people will ignore their symptoms until they’re almost dead,” Tony shakes his head, sounding annoyed, if not a little angry. Tony huffs out a breath, then turns back to Steve with a sheepish smile, “Sorry, I shouldn’t be around people when I’m not caffeinated. I can be a bit of an asshole. At least that’s what Rhodey says, and I suppose he would know better than anyone. He had to deal with me during finals in college.”

Steve doesn’t know why he asks it or why it suddenly feels like the best idea he’s ever had, but the question is out of his mouth before he can even think about it, “Do you want to get a drink with me?”

Tony freezes, eyebrows raised and lips parted like that was the last thing he was expecting, and Steve backtracks immediately, “I just thought, you know, maybe, since you said you would help me with the prank thing and then we never talked about it. It’s not like a - not a date thing. I mean, I know what it sounds like, but it wasn’t - isn’t a line. Not like that.”

Tony laughs, and Steve feels his cheeks heat up. He’s never been particularly smooth, but this feels like a new low. Luckily, Tony takes it in stride, “Okay, sure. You’re going home alone at the end of the night, I get it.” Tony takes a few steps closer, hand reaching out to grasp the collar of his coat. His thumb traces the embroidered hospital logo, and Steve watches the movement. Steve’s breath catches in his throat when Tony looks up at him through dark lashes. 

“Right,” Steve whispers, barely able to get the word out. It really isn’t fair, the effect that Tony has on him without even trying. 

Tony grins and steps back, putting a foot in between them. He drops his hand from the coat, but finds Steve’s hand instead. He squeezes it once, light and quick, before dropping it, too. “Meet you in the lobby in fifteen.”

Tony walks down the hall, and Steve is frozen in place as he watches Tony’s retreating figure until he disappears down a corner. His tired brain takes a moment to connect the pieces of the last few minutes. He smiles to himself when he fully realizes he has a not-really-a-date with Tony, and he wishes he hadn’t thrown that addendum in there so quickly. 

Steve goes back to the locker room, getting rid of scrubs quickly. He almost trips over his jeans in his haste to pull them on, and Natasha appears next to him just in time to laugh as he stumbles into the lockers. 

“What’s up with you?” she asks, opening her own locker. 

“I, uh, shit,” he snags his foot on the cuff of the jeans and nearly falls again. “I’m going out with Tony.” He buttons the jeans and looks over his shoulder at her, catching the way she raises one perfect eyebrow in response. “Not a date. Just a drink. We’re talking. That’s it.”

“You’re pretty nervous just to talk to a guy you’ve been talking to for weeks now,” she says. She pulls off the top of her scrubs, and Steve turns back to his own shirt.

“We haven’t done anything outside work before,” he says. “I mean, besides the obvious thing. But I was drunk then, and I didn’t really know him, so it doesn’t count. Not really.”

Natasha nods slowly, considering him for a moment before saying, “And that’s a big deal.” It’s half statement, half question.

“Yeah, it is.” Steve takes his jacket off the hook and shuts his locker a little too hard. He leans against it, waiting for Natasha to finish changing. 

She pulls on her own jacket, and they start to walk out together in silence. He gets the feeling that she’s waiting for him to say something, giving him space to have his momentary freak out. In the elevator, he finally asks, “What if he doesn’t like me outside of work?”

Natasha narrows her eyes, “Why wouldn’t he like you outside of work?”

Steve shrugs, trying to play it more nonchalant than he feels, “I don’t know.”

“You met him outside of work.”

“We were drunk,” he reminds her again. “Doesn’t count.”

“Of course it counts.”

“But what if he spends more than ten minutes with me and realizes he doesn’t like me? That would suck.”

Natasha bites her lip, clearly holding back a smile as the elevator doors open, “Yeah, that would suck. But it’s also not going to happen, so shut up and have a good time with your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Steve quickly says. They walk towards the lobby, and Steve looks around for Tony, who isn’t there yet. “And it’s not even a date.”

“Who said that? You or him?” 

“Me.”

“Why?”

Steve pauses, then sighs, “Because I’m an idiot.”

“Well, that’s true,” Natasha grins. She puts her hand on Steve’s shoulder and says, “You need to chill, Steve. He likes you, you like him. It’s not that complicated.”

Steve nods and takes a deep breath, “Yeah, yeah. I know. You’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

“I believe it,” he smiles. 

Her hand falls from his shoulder, and she starts to walk towards the door, tossing a “Good luck, Steve,” over her shoulder. 

“See you tomorrow,” he says. 

He stands alone in the lobby for ten seconds before he starts to feel awkward. Checking his watch, he realizes that it’s only been eleven minutes, which gives him at least four minutes to overthink everything again. Instead, he pulls his phone from his pocket, and scrolls through the notifications that have built up since he last checked it at lunch. There aren’t many, just a few texts from Bucky about prank ideas and one from Sam letting him know that he’ll no longer receive any warnings from him about pranks now that he’s “sided with the enemy.” He’s sending a reply to Sam when he hears Tony’s voice, “Hey, darling.” And fuck if that nickname doesn’t give him an instant dopamine boost. 

He puts his phone back in his pocket, not even bothering to finish the text first, and looks up at Tony. “Hey.”

“Ready to go?” Tony stops in front of him, hands in his pockets, and Steve nods.

They walk through the doors, and neither of them has to ask where they’re going. It was clear from the start that they’d end up in the same bar as the night they met, the one right across the street from the hospital. In Steve’s mind, it’ll always be their place. 

Tony breaks the silence as they wait for the cars to clear so they can cross, “So, how was your day, dear?”

Steve laughs, “I did scut for twelve straight hours. It kind of sucked.”

They cross the street in a jog, and Tony pulls open the door to the bar for him as he asks, “Then it’s safe to say that I’m the highlight of your day?”

“I don’t know,” Steve teases. “I did get a pretty decent kiss this morning. Kind of hard to compete with that.”

Tony scoffs, “We’re not talking about that guy. That guy sucks.”

“Wow, harsh.” Steve sits at the end of the bar and puts his coat on the back of the stool. Tony sits next to him, knee touching Steve’s as he turns to face him. 

“He made me have to talk about my feelings. He’s officially the worst.”

Steve plays along, “Yeah, fuck that guy.”

“Exactly,” Tony smiles. 

Steve finds himself leaning in, almost subconsciously, but the bartender comes over to take their drink order. The bartender greets Tony with a nod and asks, “Want your usual?”

“Yeah, thanks Clint. And he’ll have a rum and coke,” Tony says, then looks at Steve, suddenly unsure. “Right?”

“Oh, um,” Steve sputters out in surprise. “Yeah, that’s right.”

Tony gives him a small smile, and when the bartender - Clint, apparently - walks away Steve points out, “You remembered that.”

“Well, it’s not like it’s a complicated order, darling,” Tony brushes it off. The light is dim, but Steve swears his cheeks are turning a shade of red. 

“Still,” Steve says. “It’s nice.”

Tony bites his bottom lip and looks down at where his hands rest on the bar. When he looks back up, his easy grin is back like the moment never happened. “So, prank war?”

“Yes, prank war,” Steve says. “The most reasonable topic of conversation for two adult men. Especially when one of them is one of the most accomplished cardiothoracic surgeons in the world.

Tony chuckles, “That’s what makes it fun, sweetheart. I can’t remember the last fun conversation I had with someone who wasn’t you.” 

Clint comes back with their drinks, and Tony takes a quick sip of his before launching into a story with enthusiasm, “Okay, so, back in college Rhodey and I played pranks on each other all the time. Well, I played pranks on him, and he pretended to be ‘too mature’” Tony says with air quotes, “to lull me into a false sense of security. I pranked him at least once a month for seven years, all through undergrad and med school, with all kinds of things, and he never retaliated until our last year of med school. Turns out he kept a list of every prank I ever pulled on him, and in a single week he did all of them on me and then some. I never saw it coming, which is really the first and most basic lesson of pranking someone. It can’t be something everyone’s done before. And fear - that’s the second lesson. Sometimes you have to play the long game for the best results.”

“You know, I didn’t think I needed pranking lessons, but apparently I’m really far out of my element here.”

“It’s the only child thing, isn’t it?” Tony asks, nodding knowingly. “You never had anyone to mess with before. I didn’t either, obviously, until Rhodey.”

“Tell me more about Rhodey. He seems cool,” Steve prompts. Tony smirks, which makes Steve ask, “What?” 

“Nothing,” Tony says, though his smile grows. “Just seems that my plan to make you like me with random facts about my life worked even better than I thought it would. Because now you’re just dying to know more.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs. He takes a long drink to cover the fact that he’s definitely still smiling because Tony’s right - every fact did make him want to know more. “Technically, though, I asked to know more about Rhodey, not you.”

Tony scoffs, “First of all, rude. Second of all, Rhodey is an extension of me, and therefore counts as you asking about me.”

“If you say so.”

“Anyway,” Tony rolls his eyes, but there’s a slight smile toying on his lips. “Rhodey’s been my best friend for twenty years, and if you ask him he’ll tell you he became my friend against his will, but that’s a lie. I was kind of a mess in college, and he was the guy unlucky enough to have a fifteen year old freshman with a partying problem as his roommate. I think he saw me as his little brother and basically forced me into being friends with him.

He kept an eye on me, made sure I didn’t get into trouble. Well, serious trouble, anyway. Honestly, I don’t know where I’d be now if it wasn’t for him. He’s saved my ass at least a hundred times.”

“So, uh,” Steve starts, “if this goes any further, should I expect him to threaten my life? Does he give a good shovel talk?”

Tony laughs loudly out of surprise with his head tilted back, and Steve grins at being the reason for it. “He gives a fantastic shovel talk. It’s effectiveness is questionable, but he’s very creative with all the ways he knows how to kill a man and get away with it. It's all very Liam Neeson in _Taken_." Tony shakes his head with a fond smile. "But what about your friends? Is one of your roommates brave enough to give me one?”

“My roommates? Definitely not,” Steve says. “But I wouldn’t put it past Nat. I don’t think she’s afraid of anything or anybody.” 

“Wait,” Tony says, raising a finger, “Last week, I was consulting on one of her patients. It was some guy who got stabbed by his ex-girlfriend’s brother, and Romanov said some cryptic shit about knowing how to use a knife in a fight, and then something about making it look like an accident. Was that about you?”

Steve considers it for a second and shrugs, “Like I said, I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Son of a bitch,” Tony mutters, sounding a mix of awed and amused. “I think I actually like her more now.”

“She’s a good friend,” Steve smiles. “All of them are.”

“You should hang on to them. It’s hard to survive residency without backup.”

“Well, Sam and Bucky have already decided that we’re brothers now, and apparently I’m never getting rid of them,” Steve pauses to take a drink. “It’s nice, though. My mom died right after I graduated high school. It’s been awhile since I had a family.”

Tony nods, “I know the feeling. My parents died when I was in college.”

Steve recognizes that they’re slowly wading into dangerous, unknown terrain, and he softly asks, “Were you close with your parents?”

“Not really,” Tony swirls the liquid around in his glass, watching it as he talks. “They were… distant, I guess. We didn’t talk all that much, and when we did it was usually arguments. At least, that’s how it was with my dad.” 

“I never really knew my dad,” Steve offers, surprising himself by willingly bringing it up. He continues before he loses the nerve, “He left when I was little. I think the last time I saw him I was five. He was a surgeon, too.”

“So is that why you went to med school?” Tony asks. 

“Definitely not. My mom was a nurse, and she made me want to help people,” Steve explains. “Besides, even if I wanted to impress him by following in his footsteps it wouldn’t have mattered. He died last year.” Steve takes a shaky breath and runs his hand through his hair. “Which hurt more than I’d like to admit.”

Tony meets his eyes, and there’s an understanding in them that makes him feel relieved. “Feels like you missed an opportunity, doesn’t it? To fix it.”

“Yeah, it does,” Steve says, and his voice is quiet enough that it’s nearly lost in the noise of the bar. Another deep breath and he decides, “But I don’t really want to talk about it. Tell me something else about you.”

Tony grins, “What do you want to know?”

He turns in his chair slightly, until they’re almost face to face, and rests his head in his hand with his elbow on the bar. “Surprise me.”

“Okay,” Tony taps his fingers against the bar. “I don’t really like the beach. Sand gets everywhere, and it’s annoying.”

Steve nods in agreement, “That’s why I always thought the idea of sex on the beach was weird. It’s like you’re asking for an infection.” 

Tony hums and takes a moment to think before saying, “Some time next month is the ten year anniversary of when I tried to teach myself to tie a cherry stem with my tongue and almost died.”

“What?” 

“It’s apparently a lot harder than it looks.”

Steve laughs, hand on his chest, “So you choked on a cherry stem while trying to look cool.”

“Essentially, yes.”

Leaning over the edge of the bar, Steve spots the bowl of maraschino cherries and stretches across Tony to pluck one from the top. He feels Tony’s eyes watching closely as he separates the cherry from the stem, keeping the cherry in one hand while putting the stem in his mouth. He twists the stem around, using his tongue and teeth to contort the stem, and after a few seconds he pulls the knotted stem out and presents it to Tony.

Tony stares down at the knotted stem for a beat, then beams up at Steve. “Seriously? Why do you know how to do that?”

“I was waiting for the day I could use it to impress a hot guy at a bar,” Steve jokes, popping the cherry into his mouth. He has just enough time to swallow it before Tony’s lips are suddenly on his, warm and urgent, and he doesn’t hesitate to respond. He threads his fingers through Tony’s hair, pulling him closer. Tony’s knee slots between his own, and Steve opens them wider to let him in. He can taste the scotch on Tony’s lips, mixing with the rum on his own, and the kiss turns to just this side of indecent as he chases the flavor. Tony’s hand grips his thigh, fingers digging into his skin roughly, and Steve covers it with his own as he pulls back just far enough to breathe. 

They look at each other in the dim lighting of the bar for a long moment, and Steve is about to ask Tony to come back to his place, has the words on the tip of his tongue, when Tony murmurs, “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve quickly says.

Tony smiles and lifts one hand to brush his thumb against Steve’s cheek. “Too bad I have to let you go home alone tonight.”

Steve freezes, “What? Why?”

“Because according to you, sweetheart, this isn’t a date,” Tony smirks as Steve starts to mentally curse himself. “Remember that? You were pretty adamant.”

Tony moves his hand out from under Steve’s and sits back in his stool until their legs are no longer touching. Steve misses the connection immediately.

“And if it was a date?”

“I guess you’ll just have to ask me for one and find out,” Tony says with a shrug. He stands and reaches into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. Dropping a few bills on the bar, he says, “But for now it’s late, and you have to work in the morning.”

Steve doesn’t have a chance to respond before Tony leans over and kisses him again. It’s light this time, fleeting and soft, before Tony pulls away again. He walks backwards a few steps, never breaking eye contact as he adds, “Have fun with your cold shower, though.”

Steve laughs in shock, “You’re the worst.”

“You know it, baby,” Tony grins before he turns around to walk out of the bar. 

He groans when Tony’s out the door, spinning in his stool to hit his head against the counter. Finishing off his drink, Steve pulls his coat back on to head home, where he definitely won’t be having fun with his cold shower.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insecure!Steve and reassuring!Tony? No one asked for it, but I have delivered.

“It’s really not that bad, Steve,” Sam says for what might as well be the millionth time in the last hour. 

Steve glares at him, “Oh, really?”

“It’ll fade in a couple of days,” Sam repeats the fact that has failed to make Steve feel better thus far. Maybe the first time it helped - the knowledge that he wasn’t fucked until it grew out, just until he washed it enough. But now, as he stands in the elevator on his way to the locker room, after being met with judgmental looks from other doctors and a few not so nice pedestrians on the walk in, it isn’t helping anymore.

“I hate you so much right now.”

Bucky moves to stand between them as the elevator doors open, putting one arm around each of them, “Steve, he said he was sorry. It’s not his fault he sucks at pranks.”

“Hey!” Sam protests. He elbows Bucky in the ribs, which collides him into Steve’s side. “It would have been fine if you hadn’t missed your alarm and showered first. It wasn’t supposed to be Steve.”

Steve sighs, “All I asked was to be kept out of it.”

“Then you shouldn’t have joined the dark side,” Sam says, pushing the door open to the locker room. “That’s on you.”

“No, that’s on Bucky.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Relax, Steve. It’s not that bad, it’ll be gone in a few days, and in the meantime we’re gonna prank him back even worse.”

He sighs again, but doesn’t argue. Walking toward his locker, he avoids meeting the eyes of the other interns and seeing their reactions, but he hears the exact moment Natasha spots him.

“Oh my God, Sam, it was supposed to be Bucky!” she hisses. He doesn’t see her slap his arm, but he can’t miss the sharp sound it makes. 

“I know, I know,” Sam says. “He slept through his alarm, and Steve got in the shower before him.”

“My help is wasted on you if you can’t properly execute.”

Steve changes into his scrubs while Sam and Natasha continue to argue behind him, now in hushed tones that can only mean more detailed plotting. As he closes his locker back up, Bucky asks, “So where were you last night?”

“I got a drink with Tony.”

“Shit, really?” Bucky looks at him with wide eyes. “How’d it go?”

Steve smiles, “It was good.”

“That’s all I get? Where’s the details, Stevie?”

“Details are for people who don’t drag me into prank wars.”

“Fine,” Bucky laughs. “It couldn’t have been all that interesting, anyway, seeing as I didn’t see any naked men in your bed this morning.”

That gets Natasha’s attention, “What? Steve, what happened?”

“Nothing happened. We went to the bar, we had one drink, he kissed me, we went home separately,” Steve shrugs. He sounds nonchalant enough about it, but the night has been replaying in his mind on a loop, with all the things he wishes he had said at the end. He should have said something to make Tony turn around, come back and kiss him again. 

“He kissed you, and you didn’t do anything about it?” Natasha asks incredulously. “You really are an idiot.”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve says harshly. He looks at his watch, and thankfully he has an excuse to get out of the conversation. “We should go, it’s time for rounds.”

Natasha gives him one last look, shaking her head sadly at him, before leading the group out the door. They walk down the hall, meeting Dr. Potts in front of the nurses’ station at the end of the hall. She looks up from her phone and sighs at Steve’s appearance, “Let me guess, prank war?”

“How do you know about that?” Bucky questions.

“I know about everything,” she replies, still looking at Steve instead of Bucky. Her eyes narrow, and he senses she’s not just talking about the prank war anymore, but she turns on her heel to start rounds, and he doesn’t have time to question it before rounds start. 

He gets a few strange looks from the patients who already know him, and more than one person compares him to a Troll doll, but otherwise they make it through the hall to the last patient without incident. 

Steve listens carefully, ready to answer any and all questions, as Sam describes the patient’s history of lung cancer. He’s in the middle of detailing the procedure for a lobectomy when Tony walks through the door, interrupting with “Sorry I’m late.”

Sam continues, and Steve purposefully stares at the floor until he’s done. Dr. Potts assigns Sam to the case, and all of them make their way back out of the room. Natasha and Bucky follow Dr. Potts, while Steve lingers. Better to get the conversation over with, he figures.

When the door to the patient’s room is closed behind them, Tony turns to stare at him with raised eyebrows and a barely suppressed smile, “You have purple hair.”

Sam snickers next to him, and Steve sighs, “Yes.”

“Did you do this?” Tony looks at Sam, full on grinning now. “Because it’s amazing. It’s truly incredible.”

“No, it’s not,” Steve says, but Sam talks over him, “It was technically supposed to be Bucky, but this is honestly better.”

Tony laughs, “It’s so much better.”

“I hate you both now,” Steve mumbles, but there’s no real anger behind it. 

Tony gives him a fond look, then turns back to Sam, serious again as he requests, “Wilson, can you get updated scans and blood work on our patient in there?”

Sam nods and walks off with a pat on Steve’s shoulder, leaving him and Tony alone in the hall. Tony stares at him for a long moment, eyes locked on the dark purple hair, and Steve asks, “So, how bad does it look? Honestly?”

“Honestly, darling? It’s ridiculous,” he replies easily. When Steve groans in response, Tony turns and jerks his head to indicate that Steve should follow. Steve hesitates, but only for a second before he’s following Tony into the empty on call room at the end of the hall. 

The moment the door is closed Steve finds himself pressed against it with Tony’s chest against his. He loses his breath when he looks down at Tony and finds him looking back up at him, just like the night before. 

Tony places one hand on Steve’s waist, and the other slowly comes up to rest on the base of his neck, telegraphing his movements as if giving Steve the chance to pull away. A soft smile linger on Tony’s lips as he toys with the hair at the nape of his neck, running his fingers through the dyed strands. He leans in a little, until Steve can feel his lips brush against the underside of his jaw. 

“You know why it’s ridiculous?” Tony’s voice is low, closer to his ear as he trails his lips upward. Steve shakes his head and sucks in a deep breath to steady himself when Tony’s hand grips a little firmer in his hair. “Because you’re still somehow the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” The hand on his waist slips under his shirt. Tony’s fingers draw along the waistband of his scrubs, then settle against his stomach. “It’s really not fair.”

“Sorry,” Steve whispers, though the word gets caught in his throat when Tony’s mouth finally presses against his skin, kissing just below his ear. He sucks gently, not enough to leave a mark, but just enough to make Steve want so much more. 

Tony hums, pulling back a little to move his lips lower down the column of Steve’s throat. “Should be a damn crime for you to look so good all the time, sweetheart.”

Steve grips Tony by the waist, fingers clenching and unclenching as Tony continues his path downward. When he reaches the collar of the scrubs, he switches sides and repeats the motions as he moves up. He lingers when he reaches Steve’s jaw again, and Steve tilts his head back in an invitation to keep going. 

“I had a plan, you know,” Tony mumbles against his jaw. The hand that was in his hair falls to his shoulder, then down to his chest. Through the scrubs, he traces his thumb across Steve’s nipple, making him gasp. “I had a whole thing worked out for how I was going to finally get you to go out with me.”

“And what was that?” Steve asks.

“Doesn’t matter now,” he answers. He pulls back to look at Steve’s face, and Steve wonders if he looks just as wrecked as Tony does right now. “You ruined it.”

“How’d I do that?”

“I told you,” Tony says, cupping Steve’s face in his hand and brushing his thumb across his bottom lip. “You’re the hottest thing I’ve seen, and it’s not at all fair.”

“Sorry,” Steve repeats his answer from before, and Tony grins.

“No, you’re not.”

Steve shrugs, because really, why should he be sorry? He can’t feel anything but amazed at the way his morning has turned out. He pulls Tony back in, kissing him firmly. He gets lost in it for a while, before he remembers the way he let last night end. Suddenly it’s much more important to fix that. 

“Go out with me.” It’s maybe not how he should have phrased it, more demand than question, and he quickly follows up with, “Please, Tony.”

Tony’s eyes widen, and for a dreadful few seconds Steve worries that he’s said the wrong thing and ruined the moment, but then Tony smiles and leans in for another quick kiss.

“It’s about damn time,” he smirks. “But we’re not going anywhere until you look like you again. You’re still hot as hell, but I intend to treasure the memories of our first sober time together, and I’d like them to have a little less purple in them.”

Steve laughs, “It’ll take a few days for it to wash out.”

“Hm, I guess,” Tony trails off, pressing another kiss to Steve’s jaw. “You’ll just have to make it worth the wait, darling.”

Steve lets his hands drop a little lower, thumbs rubbing suggestive circles just below Tony’s belt. He tries to sound as innocent as possible as he asks, “And how would you like me to do that, baby?” 

It has the intended effect, making Tony say, “Oh, God,” and lean forward until his forehead is pressed against Steve’s chest. 

Tony looks up after a moment, expression warring between want and frustration, “I have to operate on someone in half an hour. I don’t have time for this right now. I wish I did, Steve, God I do, but I don’t.”

“You started it,” Steve smiles. His thumb moves lower down the front of Tony’s pants. He knows they’ll have to stop soon and it won’t actually go anywhere, but he can’t resist teasing Tony. 

Tony’s hips involuntarily push back against Steve’s hand, making his thumb press harder, and his head falls to Steve’s chest again. A hand finds its way back into Steve’s hair, not pulling, just holding him close. 

“I overestimated my own self-control,” Tony mumbles. Steve tries not to laugh, but the sound slips out anyway, and Tony looks up again with a pout. “It’s your fault. You don’t play fair.”

Steve places a finger under Tony’s chin to keep him tilted up so he can bend to kiss him again. 

“You like it that way,” Steve says. 

Another soft kiss and he pulls away, resting his head against the door. Steve sighs, somewhere between content and remorseful, “I’m supposed to be in the pit right now.”

Tony nods, but doesn’t move away even as he says, “You should go.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, not moving either. “I should.”

“I’ve got a surgery to get to,” Tony repeats. His hand slips out from underneath Steve’s shirt, grabbing Steve’s wrist and bringing it to his lips. Tony kisses his pulse point, with so much tenderness it makes Steve’s chest constrict. 

Steve swallows hard, barely managing to get his next words out, “I think the purple will be gone by Friday. And my shift is over at eight.”

Tony runs his fingers along the inside of Steve’s rest and smiles, “Then I guess I’ll see you then.”

Tony leans in one last time, softly kissing Steve before letting go of his wrist and dropping his hand from his hair. Steve steps to the side as Tony opens the door. Looking over his shoulder, Tony grins as he says, “Have a good day, Dr. Rogers.”

Steve leans against the door frame and replies, “You, too, Dr. Stark.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the long gap between updates! The good news is that I submitted my last ever college assignment yesterday, so the updates should be more regular now!

By the time Friday rolls around, Steve is a ball of anxiety powered by espresso shots and energy drinks. Between a week of late nights and early mornings, he isn’t sure the last time he slept for more than two hours at a time, and the days have blurred into a mix of patients and charts and lab results. The one silver lining, he supposes, is that his hair has managed to fade from the violent purple into a soft lilac, then, finally, back to its normal blond. 

He feels a bit like he’s sleepwalking as he goes through morning rounds, and by the time lunch comes around he’s seconds away from falling asleep on top of his sandwich. Luckily, the loud conversation surrounding him keeps him awake.

“So,” Bucky says, pausing after the word in a way that Steve knows can only be bad for him, “my girlfriend is visiting from Baltimore this weekend.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Steve raises his eyebrows. He looks around the cafeteria table, but neither Natasha nor Sam seem surprised by this information.

“Yeah, she’s in med school still. I haven’t been able to see her since this internship started, and I was thinking that it’d be nice to introduce her to everybody. You know, have her meet the people I work with.”

Steve nods, “Yeah, sounds fun.”

“She’ll be here tonight, actually.” Another pause, and Steve waits for him to continue. “I asked a few people to come over, just some other interns. That’s cool, right?”

“I guess so,” Steve shrugs. “I won’t be home tonight, anyway.”

“Oh, yeah. You’ve got that date with Stark, right? I forgot about that. Guess you won’t be home at all tonight, then,” Bucky wags his eyebrows suggestively, and Steve throws a potato chip at him.

“There’s no guarantee that I’m sleeping with him.”

Natasha interjects in the conversation with a snort, “You really expect us to buy that?”

“There’s a one hundred percent chance you’re doing the walk of shame tomorrow,” Sam says. 

“Except there won’t be any shame,” Bucky smirks. 

Steve laughs, “Okay, okay. There’s a decent chance I’m not coming home tonight.”

“One hundred percent,” Sam repeats.

“Seventy five.”

Bucky and Sam share a look, then Bucky turns back to Steve, “So since you’re guaranteed to be gone tonight, you won’t mind if I invite some extra people?”

Steve shrugs and doesn’t think about it much before answering, “Sure, why not?”

“Really? Thanks, Stevie.” Bucky shoves the last bit of his burger in his mouth and stands from the table. He claps his hand on Steve’s shoulder, and he’s still chewing as he says, “I got to get back to the pit, but seriously thanks.”

Bucky’s departure prompts Sam to check his watch, and he swears under his breath. “I’ve gotta go, too. See you guys later.”

It leaves Steve and Natasha alone at the table, and when he glances up from the remnants of his food, she’s giving him an assessing look.

“What?”

“You just got played, Rogers.”

“What are you talking about?”

“When he said he invited a few people, what he meant was that he invited every single surgical intern. That’s already twenty people.”

“And I just gave him permission to invite even more,” Steve finishes the thought with a sigh. He falls back into his chair, and suddenly he’s laughing while Natasha watches him with raised eyebrows. “He’s such a dick.”

Natasha cracks a small, amused smile. It clearly wasn’t the reaction she was expecting. “You know this is going to spiral into a full blown party, right? Between him and Sam, the entire hospital is going to end up at your place.”

“I don’t think they’d go that far.” 

Another raised eyebrow is her response. 

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything,” she shrugs. “But they know you never stay mad at them for more than a minute.”

“That’s not true. Stop giving me that look, it’s not.”

“Bucky never cleans the kitchen and leaves his dishes everywhere, and you haven’t complained since the first week. Both of them take all the hot water and leave you with cold showers. Sam dyed your hair purple, and you forgave him by the time rounds were over.”

“Well the purple hair had some benefits that made up for it,” Steve grins.

“And the rest?” He doesn’t have an answer for that, and she takes that as a sign of concession. “Exactly. You won’t even be mad at them tomorrow.”

“I’m not even mad now,” he points out, and it’s surprisingly true. Somewhere in the last week of having purple hair, he accepted that his life would be varying degrees of insane for the next few years - Bucky and Sam contributing to most of it. What they lack in good roommate etiquette they more than make up for with being the first real friends he’s had in years.

Natasha leans forward, eyes gleaming as she says, “Maybe not, but you could make them think that you are.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You want the prank war ended, right?”

“Definitely.” He may have accepted the insanity, but that doesn’t mean he actively invites it.

“Then this party is your bargaining chip.” At the confused look on his face, she continues. “Pretend you’re pissed off about the party and tell them they can have it only if they stop the prank war.”

“That’s…” he trails off, considering it, “pretty good, actually. Thanks.”

She smirks, “Someone has to keep this group functioning. Anyway, I have to go. I’m trying to get in on Banner’s craniotomy.”

“Good luck with that.”

“I have my ways of persuasion.”

He looks up at her, “Do I even want to know what those are?”

“Probably nothing of what you’re thinking. Have fun resurrecting the dead.”

She picks up her empty lunch tray and stands from the table while Steve says, “It’s not resurrecting the dead. It’s the code team.”

“Whatever you want to call it, it sucks,” she says before leaving him alone at the table.

He wishes he could argue that, but she’s right. It does suck. He’s been trying not to think about all the patients he’s already lost today, and all the families they left behind. Technically, he wasn’t the one to lose them, because they were already flatlining when he got there, but it doesn’t do much to ease the guilt. 

He gathers the trash from the table, collecting it on his tray, and reluctantly gets up. He has to get back to the ICU. The other thing about the code team - it’s mostly just waiting. It feels a little wrong to just be waiting for someone’s heart to stop functioning, but he supposes that someone has to do it. 

The walk back to the ICU takes a few minutes, but he’s rewarded when he gets there by the sight of Tony leaning against the wall next to the nurses’ station, scrolling through his phone. He’s dressed in just his dark blue scrubs, the white coat nowhere in sight. He’s more good looking dressed like that than anyone should have the right to be.

Tony notices him approaching and looks up with a bright smile, “Hey there.”

Steve does his best to return the smile, but it must look as forced as it is because Tony’s brow immediately furrows. “Something wrong?”

“Not a very good day,” Steve sighs, slumping against the wall next to him. “And apparently there’s a party happening at my apartment tonight.”

“Oh, yeah. I heard about that.”

“What? How? I just heard about it ten minutes ago.”

Tony shrugs, “Some nurses were talking about it.”

“My roommates are the worst.”

Tony laughs, and the sound makes him feel incrementally better, “Yeah, they are. But they’re like family, right? Can’t get rid of them now.”

“Nat said I should use this as leverage to end the prank war.”

“That you should. I’m breaking up with you if your hair changes color again.”

“Breaking up with me?” Steve raises an eyebrow. “So we’re dating now?”

Tony rolls his eyes, but his smile is fond as he says, “Please, we’ve been dating for weeks. Not my fault you didn’t notice until this week.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Steve grins. “But it was more fun this way, wasn’t it?” 

Tony shakes his head, smiling still, “Maybe a little.” He pauses, then asks, “Hey, are you busy right now?” 

“Sort of. I’m on the code team.”

Tony grimaces, “Shit, that sucks.”

“Told you I wasn’t having a good day.”

“So our date is guaranteed to be the best part of your day, then?”

“I guess so,” Steve laughs. “Although it could go horribly wrong and end up being the worst part.”

“Well aren’t you an optimist,” Tony teases. 

Steve shrugs, “It technically could go wrong is all I’m saying.”

“Technically, sure. But it won’t.”

“You sound pretty confident about that.”

“I am confident about it,” Tony says. 

Steve looks down at him, head still against the wall. “Why’s that?”

“Because I already know you, and you know me. And I haven’t managed to scare you off yet, so I’m thinking there’s a decent chance you might stick around for a while longer.”

The way he says it sounds like a confession. Of what, Steve isn’t quite sure, but it prompts him to say, “So I’m only sort of busy, you seem not at all busy right now, and I’m willing to bet that on call room is empty.”

Tony looks surprised for a second before a smirk takes over. “Can’t even wait for tonight?”

Steve rolls his eyes and forces the smile to stay off his face, “I never said anything about sex.”

“Neither did I,” Tony points out. 

He feels the blush spread across his cheeks, but he refuses to give Tony the satisfaction of sounding embarrassed. “Do you want to make out with me in the on call room or not?”

Tony gives him a look like he’s searching for something, then breaks out into a grin. “You’ve gotten quite forward lately. I like it.”

“Maybe you’re a bad influence.”

“I’m a fantastic influence,” Tony says, pushing off the wall. Steve follows a few steps behind as they head to the on call room at the end of the hall. “Ask anyone.”

“Every story you’ve told me about your life so far has suggested otherwise.”

“That’s true, but I’d say what I’ve done to you is very good,” Tony laughs. He opens the door to the room and checks to make sure it’s empty before tugging on Steve’s hand to pull him in. The door closes behind them, and Steve lets himself be pushed onto the edge of the bed. He takes Tony with him, hands clutching his hips to drag him forward until he’s sitting on top of Steve, knees on either side of his thighs. Like this, Steve has to look up at him, voice quiet as he asks, “And what is it that you’ve done to me?”

Tony brushes his thumb across Steve’s cheek, holding his face gently in his hands. “Same thing you’ve done to me, I hope.”

The words have him surging up, meeting Tony’s mouth with his own a little roughly. It’s messy at first - the culmination of weeks’ worth of tension resulting in clanging teeth and bumped noses before Tony takes control of it. It registers in his mind suddenly that this, whatever it is, is real now. They’ve gone past the point of no return, but just as quickly as he realizes it, he also realizes he doesn’t mind. It’s thrilling actually, to just let himself fall into it. 

Tony’s tongue tastes like coffee as it slides into his mouth, and he grips Tony’s hips tighter to draw him closer still. One hand travels up, slipping beneath Tony’s scrub top to splay his fingers across the bare skin of his back. Tony copies the movement on Steve’s body, though his hand can’t seem to keep still. He runs it across Steve’s back, stomach, chest, everywhere he can reach like he can’t get enough contact. 

Steve pulls back to gasp for breath, fully panting now, and Tony’s mouth moves down his jaw. He finds the sensitive spot beneath his ear and traces it with his tongue. His hands continue to roam, touching as much as possible, and Steve realizes that he’s free to do the same - and God, why hasn’t he taken advantage of that yet? He drops his hand lower, kneading his fingers into the firm muscle of Tony’s ass, and hears Tony draw a sharp breath. The sound encourages him, and he reaches for the hem of Tony’s shirt to drag it up. Tony catches on immediately and raises his arms, pulling back enough for Steve to lift it all the way off of him.

Even though he’s technically seen it before, the sight of Tony’s tanned skin and toned muscles makes him pause for a moment, just to get a better look. He leans back, following the path of his hand down Tony’s chest with his eyes. 

“Like what you see?” Tony teases. 

Steve looks up, matching Tony’s smile with one of his own before dipping his head back down. He starts at his collarbone, tracing it with his lips until he reaches his sternum, and he can feel Tony’s heartbeat against his mouth, practically pounding through his skin. 

Tony tangles his fingers in Steve’s hair, and the breath he lets out is more of a shudder as Steve continues down his chest. The sound he makes when Steve captures one of his nipples between his lips is even better. Tightening his fingers in Steve’s hair, Tony’s hips seem to jerk forward on their own accord. 

“God, this was a great idea, darling. Amazing. Spectacular, even,” Tony rambles, and Steve laughs. He tilts his head up to press a soft kiss to the underside of Tony’s jaw. “Glad you think so.”

“Mm, I very much think so.” He takes the bottom of Steve’s shirt in both hands, and Steve takes it off quickly. Tony’s eyes are full of want as he stares down at Steve’s exposed skin, and any lingering insecurity leaves him. “And now it’s even better.”

“Please tell me you don’t have anywhere to be this time,” Steve says. His voice sounds desperate even to his own ears.

Tony bends back down to reattach his mouth to Steve’s neck. Against his skin, he mumbles, “Not this time, baby. You?”

Steve shakes his head, and Tony says, “Good, ‘cause I’m having some very dirty thoughts I’d like to act on.”

Steve groans, “Please.”

Tony hums, combing his fingers through Steve’s hair, slow and soft, while he works on sucking a mark just below his collarbone. It’s low enough to stay hidden for the rest of his shift, but the thought strikes him that it’ll be there tonight, when they do this all over again. The realization makes him shiver, and he feels Tony smile at the reaction.

“You know you’re really ruining this on call room for me,” Tony says, sitting back a little. He traces Steve’s bottom lip with a calloused thumb. “I’ll never be able to sleep in here again without thinking of how hot you look right now.”

A mental picture forms of Tony in here by himself, hot and bothered by just the memory of this, and he has to stifle the sound that rises up on its own accord. Tony smirks, “You like that, don’t you?”

He doesn’t say anything, and Tony keeps talking, leaning forward to whisper the words right into his ear, “You want me to think of you every time I’m in here. Want me to remember how good your mouth feels on me. Bet you want me to get worked up by it. Do you want me to touch -” 

Steve cuts him off with a rough kiss, unable to take any more of what the words are doing to him. “You’ve got a filthy fucking mouth.”

The smirk returns. “You like it.”

Steve wraps one arm around Tony’s waist, while his other hand trails lightly up and down his back. He feels the skin raise beneath his fingers. 

“I should really leave you here like this. Payback for you leaving me in the bar last week,” Steve says. 

Tony laughs, “That was your own fault. You’re the one who said it wasn’t a date.”

“I was scared,” he admits. “I really like you.”

Tony cups his hand under Steve’s jaw, tilting his head up to make him look at him. “I really like you, too. Thought I’d been pretty clear on that, with the whole relentlessly pursuing you thing.”

“You have been relentless,” Steve agrees, grinning. “But I liked that, too.”

Tony kisses his cheek, and when he pulls back, he shifts the topic easily, “So honestly, the dirty talk, does it do it for you? I’m gonna need that information. You know, for tonight.”

Steve turns his head, his face hot again. “Don’t make me say it.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Tony says. He wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, getting so close that there’s barely any space between them, and presses his face into Steve’s neck. Nudging his nose against Steve’s skin, he coaxes, “Tell me.”

The blush spreads lower, and he knows Tony can see all of it. He sighs, and his voice is hardly above a whisper as he confesses, “It definitely does it for me.”

“How can someone who just invited me in here for sex turn so shy when I ask about dirty talk?” Tony muses. 

“I didn’t invite you in here for sex.” It’s mostly true. Truth adjacent, really. 

“I’ll pretend to believe you.”

“How kind of you,” Steve rolls his eyes. The sarcasm is offset by the way his fingers continue to draw patterns into Tony’s skin, arm still holding him tight.

“I’m very nice. Ask anyone.”

Steve rearranges their position, shifting on the bed so he’s lying back against the pillow and taking Tony with him. Tony ends up mostly on top of him, legs tangled with Steve’s own, but neither of them seem to mind.

“That’s the second time you’ve said that, but who would I possibly ask?” 

Tony shrugs, “Pepper. She knows things. But she probably wouldn’t tell you I’m nice and would definitely tell you that I’m a bad influence, so maybe don’t trust her.”

“Does she know about us?”

“I never said anything, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she does. Like I said, she knows things.”

“Is that going to be a problem?” 

Tony must feel the way Steve tenses beneath him, because he runs a soothing hand down his side. “Not for you. She wouldn’t do that.”

“But for you?”

Another shrug. “She’ll probably have some things to say about it, sure. It’s not technically against any rules, though. So as long as you’re okay with what people might say about it, there’s really no reason to worry.”

“I already know what people are going to say about it.” He thinks back to Sam’s initial disapproval, the way it stung but ultimately felt deserved. “I can live with it if you can.”

Tony smiles, “I can live with it.”

They’re both quiet for a moment, then Tony says, “I feel a little cheated out of sex right now.”

Steve laughs, “How many times do I have to tell you that I did not invite you in here for sex?”

“Right, yes, I’m still pretending to believe that.”

“I think that fact that we’re not having sex right now should prove it.”

“But shouldn’t we be having sex? We’re really good at it.” 

“What happened to cherishing the memories of our first sober time together?” Steve paraphrases Tony’s word from earlier in the week.

“Fine,” Tony sighs, acting more put out about it than he is, “I suppose I can wait until tonight. Maybe we’ll even make it to your bed this time.”

Steve hums, “That would be nice.” 

Tony presses a little deeper into his side, making a content sound when Steve tightens the arm around his waist. “This is surprisingly nice.”

“It is,” he agrees. He feels himself slipping dangerously towards sleep, though, and it’s probably for the best when Tony’s pager goes off.

Tony groans, lifting his head to look at the small screen. “Apparently I’m needed in the pit.” 

His head falls back on Steve’s shoulder for just a moment before he rolls off of the bed completely. Steve watches the muscles in Tony’s back flex as he bends down to collect his shirt, feeling a twinge of regret that he has to go. 

Tony pulls the shirt down over his head, then gives Steve a quick kiss. “Meet you in the lobby at 8:15?”

Steve nods, “Go save a life, doll.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First date part one! Part two coming soon!

The sun is starting to set as they walk down the sidewalk together, headed for a restaurant a few blocks away from the hospital that Tony claims is one of the best in the city. The sky is bathing Tony’s face in shades of pink and orange in a way that makes him want to reach over and touch, but he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to just yet. There’s a small space between them, enough to make their hands brush every once and awhile, sending a small shock through his body every time. It’s been quiet as they walk, but comfortably so - all sidelong glances and fond smiles. 

Tony is the first to break the silence. 

“So did your day get any better after I saw you?”

Steve shakes his head, “No, definitely not. Although, one guy lived, so I guess that’s better than it was this morning.”

“It is better,” Tony agrees. “The first time I had to run a code by myself was my second day as an intern. The girl lived, but I was so freaked out by it that I ran out of there and threw up.”

“It’s weird to think that you were ever an intern.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know, you’re just so…” Steve trails off, gesturing vaguely over at Tony. “Like this. That doesn’t make sense, I know, but you’re one of the best cardiothoracic surgeons in the world. It’s weird to think that you were ever freaked out by a code, or that you ever didn’t know what you were doing.”

Tony nods thoughtfully, then says, “I know what you mean. You start out thinking that attendings know it all, like they’re invincible. But we all started at the very bottom, and I definitely didn’t start out as the best. Fury still talks about how he was convinced I was going to fail out of the program when I started.”

“What’s your history with Fury like? He seems, I don’t know, protective of you, almost. From what I’ve seen, anyway.”

Tony laughs, “I wouldn’t go as far as protective, but we’ve known each other for a long time. He’s been the chief since before I started my internship, and he was friends with my dad. Not close friends, I don’t think, but they knew each other.”

“So your dad, was he a surgeon, then?” Steve asks the question quietly, with the knowledge that parents seem to be a touchy subject for both of them. 

“Oh, no. He, uh, worked in weapons manufacturing.”

There’s a lull as Steve tries to think of the appropriate response to that, but luckily Tony offers more information voluntarily. 

“It was sort of a family business, and he always wanted me to take over when he died.” 

“Why didn’t you?”

Tony shrugs, looking a little uncomfortable. His hands have gone into his pockets, his posture closed off now, and Steve wants to unask the question. 

“I never liked the idea of making weapons.”

“So a doctor then,” he says. 

Tony lets out a heavy breath, “Yeah, kind of the exact opposite, right? Saving lives instead of taking them away. Not that I was thinking like that when I decided to do it. I just liked the idea of doing something good. Something that didn’t feel like a waste.”

“It’s definitely not a waste.”

Tony gives him a soft smile and reaches his hand out, taking Steve’s in his own. His hand feels small wrapped in Steve’s, and a warm sort of feeling spreads through his body at the contact. It’s somehow more intimate than anything they’ve done so far.

“Okay, I’m making a rule,” Tony says. The discomfort of before is gone, replaced with his normal, confident tone. “No more heavy conversations for the first date. Childhood traumas and repressed feelings are tabled until at least date three.”

Steve laughs, “Yeah, okay. That sounds good.”

Tony grins as he turns a corner, pulling Steve along with him. Another half block, and they’ve reached the restaurant. It’s unassuming from both the outside and inside, with modest decor and a casual atmosphere. Not quite what he was expecting from Tony, but it’s a pleasant surprise.

They end up seated in the back, across from each other in a small booth. A waitress arrives while Steve is still taking off his coat, and she pours Tony coffee automatically without having to ask. She looks at Steve, but he declines the offer and asks for water instead. 

She smiles at Tony and says, “Be back in a minute, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Brenda.”

Steve raises his eyebrows as she walks away. “So I take it you come here a lot?”

“Yeah,” Tony shrugs. “I like it.”

“First the bartender last week, and now that waitress,” Steve says. “Do you spend all your free time making friends at places by the hospital?”

“Are you implying I don’t have a life?” 

“I might be now, yeah,” Steve jokes.

“I’ll have you know that everyone knows Clint at that bar. You’re basically the only doctor who doesn’t go there all the time.”

“But does Clint know every doctor’s drink order?”

Tony laughs, “Okay, yeah. You’ve got me there. But in my defense, I left pretty much all my friends back in California. It’s kind of hard to have a social life when you don’t know anyone.”

Steve nods, “What was your life in California like? You lived in LA, right?”

“Um, yeah,” Tony glances down at his hands, which are clasped on top of the table. He pauses for a long moment, then says, “Not much to tell, really. I, uh, already told you that I followed someone out there, but obviously that didn’t go so well.”

“I get the feeling we’re going into repressed feelings territory.”

Tony cracks a small smile, “Yeah, we definitely are. I’ll tell you the whole story eventually, I swear, but it’s really not a good one.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“No it’s -” Tony cuts off with a sigh. “You should probably know about it. Just later, okay?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Steve says quickly. A part of him wants to push for details, because it seems like something important, but he won’t do that. Plus, Tony seems relieved to let the topic go.  _ Note to self, _ he thinks,  _ don’t ask about his parents or California. _

Steve takes the pause in conversation to actually open his menu for the first time, and Tony says, “The burgers are the best, by the way.”

Steve shrugs and closes the menu without really looking, “Sounds good then.”

Tony quirks an eyebrow, and Steve asks, “What?”

“You’re just going to trust that?”

“Yeah, why not?”

Tony gives him a considering look, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he catches the waitress’ eye from across the room, and she appears at their side a moment later.

“Want your usual, dear?” she asks. When Tony agrees, she turns to Steve, who says, “Same here.”

As she leaves again, Tony says, “You have absolutely no idea what you just ordered.”

“Well I’m assuming it’s a burger of some kind,” Steve says. “And you made the claim that we’re at one of the best places in the city where the best food is the burgers, so I’ve gotta verify that claim for myself.”

“Oh, damn. My reputation for burger connoisseur is at stake.”

Steve laughs, “Do you have a reputation for that?”

“In my own mind, yes,” Tony grins. He takes a long drink from his coffee, then says, “Okay, I’ve told you a ton of facts about me in the last few weeks. Now it’s your turn. Hit me with the details, darling.” 

“What do you want to know?”

Tony leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Anything and everything.”

“Alright.” He settles back against the booth, thinking for a moment. “I think you know some of this already, but I’m from Brooklyn. My mom was a nurse, and my dad was an orthopedic surgeon. They worked at the same hospital, which is how they met. He left a long time ago, though, and she never really dated anyone else after that. Um, what else? I used to be really short until my senior year of high school, which was pretty rough. I got made fun of a lot for it, especially because I was kind of scrawny, too. I don’t really know what else to tell you, honestly. I think my life’s been kind of boring compared to yours.”

“To be fair I think everyone’s life looks pretty tame compared to mine, but that’s because I was reckless. With my life and with everyone else’s. It’s not a bad thing to not have a million crazy stories,” Tony says. He pauses for a beat, then claps his hands together. He pulls his phone from his pocket as he says, “Okay, new idea. We’re taking a page from the internet.”

“What are you doing?”

“I am googling the phrase ‘get to know you questions’ and seeing what happens. We’re letting the people decide,” Tony looks up from his phone with a grin. 

Steve returns it and says, “Yeah, alright. Let’s do it.”

“Here we go. It says 200 questions to get to know someone.” He scrolls down for a moment and rolls his eyes. “Oh, God, these suck. What kind of question is this? ‘What age do you want to live to?’ Who has an answer to that?” 

“I’ll go with a minimum of 80 but a maximum of 90.”

Tony gives him an amused look. “And I’ll have to ask you for your reasoning on that.”

“Well the minimum of 80 is so I can make sure to live to really see my grandkids, and the maximum of 90 is because my body’s probably not going to be doing so well by then.”

“So you want kids? Wait, no. That is not a first date question. Don’t answer that.”

Steve smiles, “I think we already know each other beyond a first date normally entails, doll. So, yeah, I want kids eventually.”

Tony nods slowly, considering. “I think I do, too. Maybe. I don’t know.” He gets a far off look on his face for a second, but it passes as he looks back down at the list. “If you suddenly became a master at woodworking, what would you make?”

“Who the hell wrote these questions?” Steve laughs. “I don’t know. I’ve literally never thought about that. I guess if I’m a master, I could make anything, though. I could build myself furniture, maybe. Never have to buy any ever again.”

“I guess there’s not a whole lot else to do with that, is there? Okay, what would be your first question after waking up from being cryogenically frozen for 100 years?”

“I was willingly frozen, right? So when I wake up I would know that a lot of time has passed already?” Steve asks.

“I would think so,” Tony says. “First question is probably ‘what year is it?’, though. I don’t think you’d automatically know it’d been a hundred years.”

“True. Probably more of a question of where and when am I.” Steve holds out his hand and says, “I want to pick one. Yours are terrible.”

Tony laughs and shakes his head, putting the phone in Steve’s hand. “I wish you the best of luck finding a good one in that list.”

Steve scrolls through the list, quickly reading and rejecting the first few questions he sees. He must make a face while reading, because Tony laughs again and says, “I told you the list was bad.”

Steve keeps scrolling, determined to find a good one, if only to prove Tony wrong. Eventually the list starts to go into what it deems ‘personal’, and they become marginally better.

“Here we go: what are you really good at, but kind of embarrassed that you are good at it?” he finally asks. 

Tony bites his lip while he thinks, fingers drumming against the table. He’s staring off at something outside the window, and Steve takes the moment just to look at him. In the soft light of the restaurant, his eyes seem darker, almost matching the black coffee in his cup. The lines on his face are a little more pronounced, and for the first time Steve notices the small scar above his eyebrow. He’s so lost in looking that it surprises him when Tony speaks again.

“Pole dancing.”

Steve’s mind freezes, “What?”

Tony grins, “It’s good exercise, you know.”

“What?”

“Have I broken you?” Tony’s smile widens, and he looks pleased with himself. “You’re picturing it, aren’t you?”

He is now. And it’s something else for sure. 

“Why do you know how to do that?”

“Long story short, Rhodey and I were drunk, bets were made, and I lost.”

“I’m starting to think that Rhodey is not actually a good influence on you,” Steve jokes. 

“He’s encouraged some questionable things, but he’s stopped even more.” His voice drops low, “Besides, if you’re really lucky, you might even get to see this talent of mine.”

“Oh, God,” Steve mutters under his breath. He runs his hand through his hair, as if that will clear the mental picture. 

“It’s really fun making you flustered,” Tony smirks. “So easy, too.”

“You’re the worst.”

Tony laughs, “I’m going to be the most fun you’ve ever had. You’re never gonna want to get rid of me.”

Steve is saved from having to admit just how true that is by the waitress coming back with their food. He looks down at the plate, then back up at Tony with raised eyebrows. “Your usual is a plain cheeseburger?”

“What were you expecting?” Tony grabs the bottle of ketchup and creates a large puddle of it next to the fries on his plate. He offers it up to Steve, who takes it with a shrug. “I don’t know. Something weird, maybe.”

“Something weird, maybe,” Tony repeats. He shakes his head and smiles, “It’s nice to know you were willing to follow me into something weird, I guess. But I think I make pretty normal food choices, babe.”

“That’s a first.” He didn’t really mean to say it, but the thought is out before he can stop it.

Tony looks confused, pausing with a fry halfway to his mouth. “What is?” 

He blushes, and Tony is right. It is way too easy to make him flustered. “Um, ‘babe’. It’s - you’ve never called me that before. That’s all.”

“No good?”

“No, no,” Steve says quickly. “It’s, uh, it’s good.”

Tony stares at him for a long moment. “Are you sure? Your face is doing a very weird thing right now.”

Steve laughs, “I’m sure. I like it.”

“Okay, babe,” Tony smiles.

The blush deepens, and he distracts himself from it by taking a bite of the burger. Tony watches him expectantly while he chews, then asks, “Well? Is my reputation intact?”

Steve nods, “Yeah, I would say so.” After a moment, he remembers to ask, “So how did you get that scar on your forehead?”

Tony’s hand comes up to touch it, tracing it with a finger. “This? I don’t know, actually. I was really young when it happened, so I don’t remember it. It’s the world’s most boring scar story, I know.”

“I have a scar on my knee that my mom said is from me falling out of a tree in Central Park, but I don’t remember getting that, either. She used to use it all the time though when she was yelling at me to be more careful.” 

“Why? Did you fall out of trees often?”

“No, never after that,” Steve smiles. “But let’s just say that personal safety wasn’t always a priority of mine.”

“‘Let’s just say’? Hell no, that requires a story.”

“There’s not really any specific stories, but like I told you I got picked on for being small when I was a kid, and I wasn’t exactly afraid to fight back. It probably happened more than it should’ve,” Steve admits. 

“Oh, God, I’m currently picturing a much, much smaller version of you standing up to bullies, and it kind of makes me want to hug you.”

Steve laughs, “That’s surprisingly sweet, actually.”

“Surprisingly? I’m always sweet, darling.”

“That’s a lie, and we both know it.”

“Name one time,” Tony challenges. 

“The time you propositioned me in a stairwell the day we met. That sound familiar?”

Tony raises a finger, “Technically, that was the day after we met. And that was a very generous offer, which you’ve clearly come to realize, given the fact that you’re on a date with me right now. You can admit it, Steve. I have seduced you with my ever-present charm and sweetness.”

Steve can’t help but smile. “Just so you know, I actually like you better when you’re not being charming.”

He seems a bit taken aback, but he recovers quickly to say, “I’m never not charming. That’s why it’s ever-present, babe.”

“I’m serious,” Steve says. “I like it when you’re just you. You never needed to try to make me like you.”

“That’s…” Tony trails off, looking down at where his hand is idly fiddling with his napkin. He nods, almost to himself, before looking back up at Steve with a hesitant smile. “Thanks.”

Instead of answering, Steve reaches across the table to place his hand on top of Tony’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the list I consulted for the questions, if anyone is curious! 
> 
> https://conversationstartersworld.com/questions-to-get-to-know-someone/
> 
> All questions came straight from it, even the one about being frozen for 100 years lol


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait, but hopefully this double-length chapter makes up for it!

The rest of the evening passes smoothly, with easy conversation filled with more stories from both of their lives. Somewhere along the way he forgot that he was ever nervous about it in the first place, feeling so comfortable with Tony. 

Afterwards, Tony leads the way out of the restaurant and turns around, taking both of Steve’s hands. He steps backwards until his back hits the brick wall, then slides his hands up Steve’s arms to grip his biceps. Steve’s hands settle on Tony’s hips.

“So,” he starts, sliding his thumb suggestively above Tony’s belt, “how far is your place from here?”

“Yours is closer. A couple blocks away, right?” 

“Mine has a party happening,” Steve reminds him. 

Tony laughs, “All the more reason to go to yours, then. Make sure no one’s burned the place down yet.” 

Steve winces, “I don’t even want to imagine the mess they’re making right now.” 

“Did you get the prank war ended, by the way?”

“Yeah, this afternoon. Felt a little guilty about it, actually, because Sam looked like he felt bad about the party thing.” 

Tony hums in response and pulls Steve in a little closer, hands sliding up again to wrap his arms around his shoulders. There’s barely any space between them now, and Steve closes the distance to kiss him. It doesn’t last long - barely turns into anything before Steve pulls back and takes his hand. 

“Come on,” he says, taking a step back. “Let’s go see if my place is still standing.”

After a block and a half of walking, the front of Steve’s place comes into view, and he sighs at the sight of it. Even the stairs are crowded with people he doesn’t recognize, so he can only imagine how much worse it is inside. 

“Kind of surprised there hasn’t been a noise complaint yet,” Tony says as they maneuver their way through the people to get through the door.

“Maybe I should call one in myself,” Steve half-jokes. 

The living room is jammed with people, and every flat surface has some type of empty cup, bottle, or can on it. Music is playing from a speaker in the corner, loud enough to vibrate the table beneath it. His grip on Tony’s hand tightens as they walk through the living room, dodging all the people that are too drunk to pay attention to where their limbs are going.

He finds Bucky in the kitchen, standing next to Natasha and Sam at the island. Natasha throws back a shot of something clear and notices him approaching as she’s slamming the glass back down. 

“Hey!” She has to shout to be heard over the noise, and she elbows Sam to get his attention. 

Sam looks apologetic again when he meets Steve’s eyes. He quickly takes Steve by the arm and leans in close to talk in his ear before Steve can say a word himself, “Bucky got dumped. Don’t ask about the girlfriend.” 

It comes out too loud, though, and Bucky rolls his eyes, “I can hear you, asshole. And I didn’t get dumped. It was mutual.”

Sam shakes his head slightly and mouths so only Steve can see, “No, it wasn’t.”

“What are you telling him over there? It  _ was  _ mutual.”

“He’s a little in denial still,” Natasha says at full volume, uncaring that Bucky can hear her. “But that’s what the vodka’s for.” 

She refills three shot glasses, and a moment later they’re empty again. Bucky and Sam both make gagging noises, while Natasha seems unfazed. She says something to them in what Steve can only assume is Russian, which has Tony saying, “Your friends are weird. I like them.”

Steve laughs and wraps his arm around Tony’s waist, pulling him close to his side. “Do you want a drink? I feel like we should stay with them for a little while.”

“Yes, you should,” Natasha answers for him, reaching for two more shot glasses from the counter behind her. He doesn’t have any idea where all these shot glasses came from, because as far as he knows he doesn’t own any, but he decides not to question it for now. She fills all five, spilling a little on the countertop as she does it without lifting the bottle back up in between pours. Sliding two in front of Steve and Tony, she says, “You’re very far behind.”

Steve and Tony each pick one up and glance at each other before shrugging and knocking them back. Tony winces at the taste and says, “I’m definitely going to regret this.”

“I already do,” Steve groans, setting the glass back down. “How many have you guys had?”

Sam points at an empty bottle, then at the half-empty one they’re currently drinking from. Steve sighs and unwraps himself from Tony to open the fridge. He pulls out three bottles of water and receives three questioning looks in response. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, setting the bottles in front of them. “I’m saving you from hangovers. Drink your damn water.”

Tony grins at him as he moves to stand next to him again, and Steve asks, “What?”

“Nothing,” Tony says, settling in against Steve’s body like he belongs there. He turns his attention back to Steve’s friends and asks, “So who’s gonna tell us what actually happened? Why’d she dump you?”

“She didn’t dump me,” Bucky insists again. “Mutual. It was mutual.”

“So that’s a lie. Anyone else?”

Sam shrugs, “Wasn’t there. Can’t tell ya.”

“Alright, Romanov?” Natasha shakes her head, and Tony sighs. “This is the worst drama I’ve ever seen. I take it back, babe. Your friends are boring.”

“‘Babe?’” Bucky echoes. He looks to Sam and Natasha, who share an amused glance. “You’re babe, now? Wow, don’t you move quickly.”

Sam doesn’t hesitate to jump in on it. “And to think that just a couple of weeks ago he was talking about ‘moments’. Look at him, all adult now. They grow up so fast, don’t they, Nat?” 

Steve interrupts before Natasha can get in on it, too, “Okay, that’s enough of that.”

“Moments?” Tony looks between the four of them. “What’s that about?”

“Oh, just Steve being fucking weird,” Bucky says.

Sam nods, “We had to listen to a lot of pining. Like way too much for a grown ass man.”

“You’ve been the topic of at least half of our conversations,” Natasha adds on. 

“I don’t know about half. It’s gotta be at least two thirds.”

“Three quarters minimum.”

“Oh, God,” Steve groans, but the grin on Tony’s face makes the embarrassment worth it. Putting his arm around Steve’s shoulders, he teases, “Aw, baby, you were pining over me?”

Bucky’s pouring another shot as he says, “Badly. It was gross.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Steve argues, but Sam is quick to disagree. “It was hard to watch.”

“You know what? I think this is our cue to leave,” Steve says, stepping back from the counter to take Tony’s hand. Tony laughs as Steve turns and tugs him into the hall. He walks faster when he hears Sam call out, “Use protection!”

Then Bucky chimes in, “No glove, no love!”

“Wrap it before you tap it!”

Wincing, Steve pulls Tony into the room in the back of the apartment. It was supposed to be the dining room, but the table and chairs are stacked with boxes of his father’s things that he didn’t know what to do with. Luckily, the mess seems to have deterred people from occupying the space, so they’re alone in the room. 

“I’m sorry about that.”

Tony shakes his head, a fond smile taking over his expression as he circles his arms around Steve’s neck to pull him closer. “Don’t be. I really do like your friends. They’re fun.”

Steve returns the smile and places his hands on Tony’s hips. “Yeah? You can have them, then. They can move in with you and take over your apartment instead of mine. I should warn you, though, that Sam snores so loud you can hear it two rooms down with all of the doors closed. I recommend ear plugs.”

“God, no. How is that even possible?,” Tony grimaces. The soft smile comes back after a moment, and Tony asks, “Did you really talk about me that much with them?”

Steve drops his head down with a sigh, burying his face in the crook of Tony’s neck so he doesn’t have to meet his eyes as he admits, “There may have been a few conversations. And there was maybe some pathetic pining involved and all of my friends repeatedly telling me to just man up and ask you out already.”

Tony slips a hand under the collar of Steve’s t-shirt, resting it on the bare skin over his shoulder blade, seemingly just wanting the contact. 

“So why did it take you so long, then?” Tony’s voice is quiet - not at all accusatory, just genuinely curious - and Steve wishes he had a better answer than  _ I’m terrified you’re going to break my heart.  _

“Because I like you,” he says instead, lifting his head to look at him. One quick glance into dark eyes has him losing his nerve, and he focuses on the way his hands fit perfectly on Tony’s hips.

“And why is that such a bad thing?”

Steve swallows hard, “Because I like you more than I’ve liked anyone in a really, really long time. And I’m not so sure that I’m any good at this.”

Tony nods slowly. His other hand joins the first down the back of Steve’s shirt, and it takes a long moment for him to speak. 

“Does it help if I tell you that I’m not so sure I’m good at it, either, but I like you a lot, too? I mean, it probably doesn’t, because now we’re just two people who are really bad at this. Double the chances at fucking this up, really.” Steve raises his eyebrows, ready to interject, but Tony keeps going. “I think, though, I think it might be worth it anyway. Right?”

“You don’t have a lot of experience being reassuring, do you?” 

Tony laughs, “No, I’m much better at being on the other side of it. I don’t think it was that bad, though. A solid six out of ten.”

Steve pretends to think about it, then says, “A four at best.”

“A four?” Tony scoffs, both of his hands coming out of Steve’s shirt so he can gesture with them. “You have to adjust your scale to fit me, Steve. Like a golf handicap.”

“I don’t know, I still think even you could do better.” 

Tony doesn’t answer, choosing instead to catch him off guard with the sudden press of his mouth on Steve’s. Steve makes a shocked noise, lips parting automatically, and Tony takes full advantage of that. The taste of vodka lingers between the two of them, and he kisses Tony deeper to chase it away. 

Slipping beneath Steve’s shirt again, this time from the bottom, Tony follows the lines of Steve’s body with his hands. His touches are light - delicate brushes of his fingertips against his skin in sharp contrast with the uncontrolled, almost frantic movements of his mouth. 

Tony pulls back, breathing heavily already as he says, “So are you gonna show me your bedroom this time? ‘Cause it might be indecent if we went for the couch again. You know, given the circumstances.”

“We’ll try exhibitionism another time,” Steve jokes.

“Hell, no,” Tony says, hands more firmly exploring beneath his shirt now. “I’m claiming sole rights to seeing you naked for the foreseeable future.”

“It’s all yours.”

Tony answers with a smile so genuinely pleased it makes his chest feel tight, and the desire to get him upstairs and into his bed grows almost desperate. He drags Tony forward by the hips, smugly thrilled by the sound Tony makes when their bodies meet. A quick, messy kiss, and Tony’s pulling away again to say, “Seriously, baby, I’ve been waiting for weeks.” 

There’s so much need in his voice, hardly disguised, that Steve is tempted to drag it out, to see how far he can push until Tony breaks, but his own resolve is wearing thin. He takes Tony’s hand and pulls him out of the room and up the stairs, ignoring the knowing looks they’re receiving from the people they pass on the way. There’s nothing discrete about what they’re doing, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Paper signs in Sam’s handwriting warn guests to stay out of all the bedrooms, and Steve will have to remember to thank him later for that. Once inside his room, he takes a second to lock the door behind them and flick the lightswitch, then his hands are back on Tony. 

They try to undress each other, each scrabbling at the other’s clothes, but it quickly becomes a frustrating tangle of hands and arms without either of them becoming less clothed. Taking a step back, Steve pulls off his shirt and waits for Tony to do the same. They both take off their shoes, one of them hitting the wall with a hard thunk as Steve kicks his off a little too enthusiastically. 

He guides Tony backwards toward the bed, until the backs of his legs hit the mattress and he falls down onto it. Without a moment’s hesitation, Steve drops to his knees. He slides his hands up Tony’s thighs, spreading them wider, and pops the button on Tony’s jeans. Tony leans back on his hands and lifts his hips to allow Steve to pull them down, boxers and all, so he’s left with Tony completely naked in front of him. He wraps a hand around Tony’s cock in a firm grip, and when he looks up, Tony is staring at him with rapt attention. 

Quirking an eyebrow, he can’t resist asking, “Like what you see?”

Whatever Tony’s answer would have been is cut off by a strangled sound as Steve takes the head into his mouth.

“Jesus, fuck,” Tony swears, hand flying up to tangle in Steve’s hair. He doesn’t push, just follows the movement down as Steve takes him deeper. “You are - shit - you’re so fucking hot right now.”

Steve continues with his hand and mouth, experimenting with his tongue until he finds the combination that makes Tony’s hand tighten in his hair and his hips buck off the bed. He does it again, then once more before Tony says, “You should, oh, God, you should probably stop if you want to do any more than this.”

He pulls off, and Tony immediately drags him up into a kiss. His hands find purchase on Tony’s thighs, gripping a little too hard, but Tony doesn’t seem to mind. He reaches for Steve’s belt and has to break off the kiss to get it undone.

Standing back up, Steve makes quick work of kicking off his jeans and boxers. In the meantime, Tony slides up the bed, propped up on his elbows to watch him with a sly smile on his face.

“Nice to know my memory did  _ not  _ exaggerate,” Tony says.

Steve laughs as he grabs the bottle of lube and a condom from the nightstand, tossing it on the pillow next to Tony’s head. He settles himself between Tony’s legs and asks, “So you’ve been thinking about it, then?”

“How could I not?” Tony replies. He bends his knees, making more room from Steve between them. “Those memories got me through many, many nights of waiting for you to make a move.”

The picture of that is hotter than it has any right to be, Steve decides, and his thoughts must be clearly laid out on his face, because Tony smirks. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? That’s right, how could I forget? The dirty talk does it for you.”

Steve dips his head down, finding a spot on the junction of Tony’s neck and shoulder that he decides would look much better with a mark on it, and Tony keeps talking.

“Do you want to hear about it, Steve?” His fingertips drag along Steve’s back, sending a shiver down his spine. “Do you wanna hear about all the things I thought about doing to you? The things I thought about you doing to me?” Steve sucks a little harder, an involuntary response, and Tony rightfully takes it as a cue to continue with the latter. “I’ve thought about your mouth an awful lot. I want it everywhere on me. And trust me, baby, I really do mean everywhere.” He continues down Tony’s chest with open mouthed kisses, silently following Tony’s request to put his mouth to good use. Tony’s hands make their way back into his hair, pulling slightly at the short strands. “Do you know how much you bite your lip at work? Because I do, and you don’t even know what you’re doing to me, do you?”

His teeth graze a nipple, and Tony jerks below him. He does it again, then soothes the spot with his tongue. Lifting his head, he meets Tony’s eyes and asks, “What else?”

Tony shudders and takes a deep breath, blinking rapidly a few times as if to clear his head. One hand leaves his hair to grip his shoulder tightly, fingers digging in. 

“Your hands,” Tony finally says, and Steve shifts his weight back to his knees to free his hands for anything Tony says next. He runs one down Tony’s side, over his ribs, and prompts, “What about my hands?” 

Tony’s words come out quickly. “You’re lucky I’ve got no shame, you know that? God, I can’t believe how into this you are. Seriously, darling, you should see how you look right now. You’re always gorgeous, but this is - this is something else.” 

Steve knows he must look like a mess. His lips are wet from having Tony in his mouth, probably already swollen, and his hair is mussed from Tony’s hands. If his eyes are anything like Tony’s, they’ve become so dilated there’s hardly any color left. And now, at Tony’s words, there’s a blush spreading all the way down to his chest.

He swallows hard, taking a second to regain the confidence needed to keep this up, and he’s relieved that his voice is steady as he says, “Tell me what you want, doll.”

“Anything,” Tony says, voice a near whisper. “Everything. Just - just don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Another deep breath, and Tony says, “Okay, okay. What was I talking about?”

Steve smiles, trails a hand down Tony’s midsection, teases lower with his fingertips, then answers, “I believe you were talking about my hands.” 

“Right,” Tony says, grinning. “Your very skilled hands. You gonna blush again if I tell you about how I fingered myself open while thinking about them? How I remembered the way you did it that night? Oh, you are. Look at that. Hm, you were a little rougher then. I liked it, but we can do rough another time.” 

Steve’s hands drifted lower while Tony talked, and now he lifts Tony’s hips to place a pillow below them. Reaching for the lube, he spreads some on his fingers and circles the outside of Tony’s rim. He watches Tony’s face for signs of discomfort as he easily slides one finger in, but there aren’t any. 

Tony shuts his eyes and keeps going while Steve works him open. “I thought about this exact thing so many times. Pretended it was your hand instead of mine, but God, babe, the real thing is so much better.”

“How many times?” Steve has to ask. He adds a second finger, up to the second knuckle and scissoring them out. It distracts Tony enough that he has to ask, “What?”

“How many times have you come while thinking about me?” 

“Jesus, Steve,” Tony groans. He twists his fingers and goes deeper, searching, and when he finds what he’s looking for, Tony gives him an answer. “Oh, fuck. I don’t know. Too many, probably. You made me wait a long time, baby.”

“I thought about you, too,” Steve admits. “Definitely too many times.”

Tony grabs the back of his neck abruptly, pulling him down to his lips. The taste of vodka is completely gone from his tongue now. 

When they separate, Steve reaches for the lube again to add more to his fingers. With three the fit is much tighter, and he takes his time to work the muscle loose, watching Tony’s face the whole time. His bottom lip is fully between his teeth, eyes screwed shut tight, head thrown back against the pillow. 

Eventually he can’t take it anymore, and there’s desperation in his voice as he says, “Come on, sweetheart, please. I’m ready.”

Steve doesn’t move at first, wondering just how much begging Tony’s willing to do, but Tony grabs the condom and tears the wrapper open. His movements still when Tony reaches for him, and Tony says, “It’s a damn crime that I haven’t touched you yet.”

He huffs a laugh that gets cut off by a moan when Tony strokes down the length of him, and now he can’t wait any longer, either. Quickly, he coats himself with more lube, then wipes his hand clean on the sheet. It’ll need to be washed later anyway, he figures. 

He goes slowly, letting Tony adjust for a minute when he finally bottoms out. A thought flits into his mind that it’s like coming home, but it’s so horribly cliché that he actually laughs.

“Why the fuck are you laughing right now?” Tony sounds confused, and maybe a little offended. 

He puts his hands on either side of Tony’s head and lowers himself to kiss him. Against his lips, he says, “It’s nothing, doll. Promise.” 

Tony narrows his eyes incrementally, but then Steve rolls his hips and he forgets all about it. His legs come up to wind around Steve’s waist, and his heels press into his lower back to urge Steve forward. 

“Come on,” Tony says, voice strained. “Make me feel it tomorrow. Wanna remember you every time I move. I know you want that, too.”

And he does - he  _ so  _ does. He pulls out until just the head of his cock is left inside Tony, then snaps his hips forward in quick succession. Tony makes a sound somewhere between a shout and a moan, and Steve kisses him to muffle it.

“Not so loud,” he says, breathing hard as he sets a fast pace. “Unless you want everyone here to know what we’re doing.”

Tony’s breath hitches. “That’s one way to stake a claim, isn’t it?”

In lieu of a response, Steve slips his hand beneath the small of Tony’s back and lifts him a little to change the angle. Tony slaps a hand over his own mouth to quiet the sound he makes, and Steve knows it’s for his benefit more so than his own. 

He buries his face in Tony’s neck, and his eyes shut on their own accord. He focuses on the sounds that slip through Tony’s hand, on the way Tony’s body feels wrapped around him. The scent of Tony’s cologne is mixed with the scent of his sweat, and he gets lost in that, too. 

Tony’s hand leaves his mouth to tangle in his hair again, holding Steve close. Turning his head slightly allows him to reach the underside of Tony’s jaw, and he traces his tongue along the ridge of it. The hand in his hair tugs in response, pulling him back up to his lips. 

He can feel himself getting closer, right on the edge after waiting so long, but he wants Tony to be the first to go. 

“Touch yourself,” he instructs. 

Tony complies instantly, wrapping his hand around his cock in the small space between them. His hand brushes Steve’s stomach with every fast stroke, and Steve picks up his own pace to match it. Tony’s legs tighten around him, muscles quivering with how close he is now. 

“Harder, please, Steve,” Tony whines, and Steve won’t deny him anything with the way he sounds. “Yeah, just like that. You’re perfect. So good to me.”

The praise pushes him even closer to the edge, the tension building in his body, but fortunately Tony is a step ahead of him. Tony’s fingernails dig into the muscle of his shoulder as he comes into his own hand. Steve slows his pace to drag it out for him, but he can’t hold on for much longer. Tony’s voice in his ear, repeating his name over and over, does him in. 

He all but collapses onto Tony in the aftershocks, panting heavily for a moment while Tony’s hands run up and down his back. When he realizes he’s probably crushing him, Steve tries to shift to the side, but Tony holds on tight.

“Don’t move yet,” he murmurs. “Stay right here.”

Steve nods, and it’s quiet while they both recover their breath. Tony’s heartbeat is fast against his own, and he can feel it gradually slow to a steady rhythm. 

After a couple of minutes, the position becomes uncomfortable, and Steve forces himself up on shaky arms. Tony makes a small noise when he pulls out to discard the condom. He reaches for the bottom corner of the blanket, and Tony watches him with a soft smile and half-lidded eyes while he cleans the mess of lube from his skin. When he’s done, he settles under the covers and holds them up so Tony can do the same.

Tony curls into him, facial hair scraping lightly against his skin as he cuddles to his chest, and Steve has to ask, “Was it worth the wait?”

He hums and says, “Absolutely.”

Steve grins, and Tony starts to laugh, “I can feel how smug you are about that, Rogers. You’re practically radiating it. And don’t think I didn’t notice that total praise kink you’ve got going, by the way.”

“I don’t have a praise kink,” he lies.

“Yes, you do,” Tony says. His fingers trace errant patterns into Steve’s skin as he talks. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul. Besides, I think it’s cute.” 

Steve grumbles a non-reply, though he’s quietly pleased with Tony’s quick acceptance of it. He strokes his hand through Tony’s sweat-damp hair, and Tony seems to bask under the attention.

Tony lifts his head off Steve’s chest and glances around the room as if noticing it for the first time. “You’re not much of a decorator, are you?”

Steve looks at the mostly bare walls, painted the same beige they were when he inherited the apartment from his father. Most of it is the same as it was then, actually. His moving in process was predominantly just moving his father’s old things out and his own clothes in. The result is a sparsely decorated room that doesn’t look like it really belongs to anyone.

“Haven’t had the time,” he says. It’s not fully the truth, but it’s decent as far as excuses go.

“You should find some, because this is kind of sad, babe. A little serial killer-ish, if I’m being honest.” Tony puts his head back down, burrowing further into Steve’s shoulder. 

“I don’t think serial killers have blank walls,” Steve laughs.

“How would you know?” 

“Movies.”

“Movies? Seriously?” 

“Yeah. They always have stalker photos in movies,” Steve says. He gestures towards the plain walls, “Please note the lack of stalker photos.”

There’s a long silent stretch, and Steve tilts his head down to see Tony’s face. He’s met with a wide smile and impossibly bright eyes, filled with warmth he isn’t sure what he’s done to deserve.

“What?” Steve asks the question quietly, like he’s afraid of the answer.

“You’re ridiculous,” Tony says, smile growing somehow. “I like it.”

Steve’s head falls back against the pillow, and he’s grinning up at the ceiling as he holds Tony even tighter than before.


	12. Chapter 12

Tony’s hand trails down Steve’s chest, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Steve shivers when his fingers ghost over his hip bone, then press into the dip of his pelvis. His breathing picks up at the gentle touches, stopping completely at the sound of the low, rough voice is in his ear, “Good morning, sweetheart.”

Steve hums, biting his lip as the hand moves lower, down the outside of his thigh. It stops just above his knee, then slowly makes the return trip to his hip. 

“Isn’t it nicer to wake up like this? No rush to get to work,” Tony whispers. His voice is enough to make the blood rush south in Steve’s body. There’s a flicker of amusement in it as he continues, “No one kicking me out of their house this time.”

He feels Tony’s lips on his back, brushing between his shoulder blades and down his spine. 

“I didn’t technically kick you out last time,” Steve says. He keeps his eyes shut as Tony continues memorizing his body with his hands. 

“No, you just heavily implied that I needed to leave,” Tony laughs, and the sound is wonderfully bright. “You were very flustered. It was cute.”

Steve turns in Tony’s grasp and presses his forehead to the center of his chest. Tony’s arms circle him tighter, and one hand cards through his hair, blunt fingernails lightly scraping his scalp. He feels safe like this, he realizes. Feels smaller than he actually is, but protected somehow. He doesn’t know how Tony does that so effortlessly. 

“I don’t wanna get up,” he mumbles.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” Tony says. “Not that I’d be willing to go even if I did.”

Steve sighs happily and breathes back in the warmth of Tony’s skin. He can hear the smile in Tony’s voice as he says, “I like you like this.”

“Like what?”

“All soft and warm,” Tony answers. There’s teasing in his tone when he adds, “And just a little clingy.”

“I’m not clingy,” Steve grumbles, though it’s lost a bit with the way his mouth is pressed against Tony’s chest. 

“Just like you don’t have a praise kink.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs. He ruins his own argument by wrapping his arm around Tony’s back, but it’s not like he was fooling anyone anyway. 

“I told you I like it. I’m thoroughly enjoying happy, clingy Steve. I’m hoping to keep him around for awhile.”

Steve replies by pressing himself more firmly against Tony’s body. They’re both quiet for a long moment, and Steve almost falls back asleep until Tony softly admits, “I was kind of worried you’d have regrets this morning.”

“Why?”

He lifts his head incrementally, tilting his chin up to look at Tony’s eyes. It’s the first good look Steve’s gotten of his face this morning. His eyes are bright with the still rising sun reflecting off of them where it filters in through the currents, a warm glow cast across his face. His hair is sleep-ruffled, but somehow it’s the best Steve has ever seen him look. 

Tony shrugs, and while the gesture is casual, the way his bottom lip is planted between his teeth gives him away. 

“You know, the whole thrill of the chase thing.”

“The thrill of the chase thing?”

Tony’s fingers trace absentminded patterns on Steve’s bicep, and his eyes follow the motion instead of meeting Steve’s. 

“Sometimes the chase is better than being caught. Theory’s better than reality.”

Steve is quick to dispel that idea, “I don’t regret anything.”

Tony smiles, small and a little doubtful, “Are you sure? I wouldn’t blame you.”

Steve cups his cheek and gently runs his thumb along his jawline until Tony finally meets his eyes.

“I don’t regret anything,” he repeats more firmly. “I’m in this.”

“Okay,” Tony nods. “Okay, good. I’m- I’m in this, too.”

Steve shifts on the bed to be able to reach Tony’s lips with his own. When he pulls back, he adds, “If it wasn’t clear before, I really liked last night.”

“Me too,” Tony sighs, content. “Ten out of ten, would recommend if it wouldn’t get you immediately stolen from me.”

Steve laughs and rolls onto his back, arm folded under his head. Tony props himself up on his elbow next to him, eyes drifting appraisingly over Steve’s bare chest. 

“Just so we’re clear, you’ve got the time to look like a bodybuilder, but you don’t have time to hang a couple of photos?” Tony suddenly asks.

“Are we really back to this? It’s not that weird.”

“Not that weird? You live in a plain beige box, babe. This is what the walls look like in insane asylums in horror movies. A normal person might call this a red flag, but I once dated a guy whose mattress was directly on his floor without any sheets, so honestly this is quite the step up from that.”

“You saw a bare mattress on the floor and didn’t immediately leave?”

“In all fairness, it was in med school. No one has their life together in med school,” Tony says. He looks back down at Steve’s chest and amends, “Except maybe you, because you’ve clearly been doing things right for awhile.” 

“It was more of a stress thing, actually,” Steve admits. “As far as coping mechanisms go, working out probably has the most latent benefits.”

Tony hums in agreement, “Definitely more beneficial than any of mine.”

“I have to ask, though,” Steve says. “How long did you date mattress guy? I need to know how terrible your judgment is.”

Tony laughs, “You’re already fully aware that it’s horrible. But I think it was about six or seven months, and he broke up with me.”

“What was his reason?”

“Oh, I don’t remember the details. Probably had something to do with the fact that I was a walking disaster back then.”

“That implies that you aren’t one now,” Steve teases. 

“Hey, I’m an absolute catch. A treasure of a man. You’re lucky to be graced with my presence.”

“Now that’s true,” Steve agrees easily.

Tony grins and dips his head for a sweet, long kiss. At the end of it, they’re a tangle of limbs again, and Tony says, “I hate to break the moment, but I’m kind of starving.”

“Yeah, me too,” Steve says. He glances over his shoulder at the clock on the nightstand. It’s early enough that they’re probably the only ones awake, especially after last night. Rolling out of bed, he rummages through the piles of discarded clothes to find his boxers and tosses Tony’s to him. While Tony gets up, Steve says, “Bathroom’s right across the hall if you need it. And there’s extra toothbrushes in the cabinet under the sink if you want.”

“Is that a subtle way of telling me you don’t like my morning breath?” Tony jokes as he pulls on his boxers.

Steve laughs, “I promise it’s not.”

Tony sorts through the rest of the clothes and grabs his shirt. It’s horribly wrinkled, and Steve tells himself that’s the reason why he offers, “You can take one of mine if you want a clean one. They’re in the second drawer from the top.”

Tony walks over to the dresser and opens the drawer Steve indicated, saying, “If you have a preference for which one I take, speak now or forever hold your peace, because you’re probably never getting it back.”

“Take whatever you want,” Steve replies, trying not to smile too much and give himself away. Tony starts to look through them, and Steve decides it’s probably weird to stand there watching, so he says, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He grabs his old shirt from the floor on his way out of the room and puts it on while he walks down the stairs. After a quick stop to the half-bathroom at the bottom of the stairs, he takes a moment to survey the mess in the living room. 

It’s not quite as bad as he was expecting, though the sight does make him want to kill Bucky just a little. Cups and bottles are scattered around, and there’s something on the wall that he hopes isn’t a bodily fluid. He walks farther into the room and finds Sam passed out on the couch and Bucky sprawled face down on the floor beneath him, arm pillowed under his forehead to keep his nose from being squished into the wood floor. 

Shaking his head, he goes into the kitchen to work on breakfast. He gets the coffee machine started first, with more than enough water to make sure there’s some for Sam and Bucky when they wake up with their inevitable hangovers. 

He hears Tony coming down the stairs while he’s staring into the fridge, trying to figure out what he can make. He’s grabbing the carton of eggs as Tony settles on top of the counter of the kitchen island. His feet kick out below him, and coupled with the way he’s drowning in one of Steve’s old college t-shirts, the action makes him look younger than he is. He catches Steve staring and questions, “What?”

Steve shakes his head and smiles, “Nothing, doll.”

“It’s the shirt, right?” Tony smirks. “You can say it - you’re one of those guys.”

“I’m not even touching that one,” Steve says. He sets the eggs down on the counter and opens a cabinet to get a bowl. 

“I’ve already added it to my list of Steve things.”

“List? What does that mean?” He pauses with an egg in his hand and turns around. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony says with a wave of his hand. 

“Oh, I’m definitely worried about it.”

“It’s all good things,” Tony says. Steve puts the egg back down and comes to stand in front of Tony, who widens his legs to create a space for him. Like this, Tony is about a head taller than him. His arms circle Steve’s neck almost automatically, and his voice drops lower. “Things I’ve noticed about you, and not just from last night, either.”

“Yeah? What else is on the list?” 

Tony smiles and dips his head down to brush his lips against a spot just below Steve’s jaw. “You’ve got a sensitive spot right here.” He presses a light kiss to his skin, then moves lower down the column of his neck. “And another one right here.” His legs wrap around Steve’s hips, drawing him in closer. “And you’d probably like it if I left a mark on it. But it’s not just physical things, though.”

“No?” Steve’s voice comes out as a whisper.

Tony shakes his head. One hand moves to cup his cheek, holding him still, as if he would possibly move away anyway. 

“I’ll admit you were hard to figure out in the beginning. There was so much back and forth that I was never sure what was real and what was an act. You’re sarcastic as all hell, and a lot of the time you make jokes when the conversation gets too personal, which is a lot like me, by the way. But I think you might be one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met, because you’re the type of person who makes sure his drunk friends drink water and you’re nice to literally everyone, even that patient the other day that scared off all the other interns. I don’t know how you manage it, honestly, because not everyone deserves it. But you’re loyal and kind and just all around good. The kind of good that makes other people wish they were better. And I really, really like that I get to know things about you.”

Steve swallows hard, grateful for the fact that Tony’s face is still against his neck so he can’t see the way his words have affected him. It’s strange, being seen by another person like that. He clears his throat and manages to say, “This is probably the time for a joke, but I honestly can’t think of one.”

Tony laughs, lifting his head. He isn’t sure which one of them leans in for the kiss first, but they end up meeting in the middle. 

“No need for that,” Tony says. He unwraps himself from around Steve’s body and puts some distance between them with a hand on Steve’s chest. “I’ll break the mood once again by demanding food.” 

Steve smiles and turns back to the previously forgotten eggs. “I should probably warn you that another thing about me is that I can’t cook.”

“Me neither. I live off hospital food and coffee.”

“You actually eat the hospital food? That’s brave.” Steve cracks a few eggs into the bowl while they talk, fishing out the pieces of shell that accidentally wind up in there, and grabs a fork to whisk them. 

“It’s not that bad once you get used to it.”

“A ringing endorsement,” Steve jokes. “But seriously scrambled eggs and toast is probably the most I can do, so I hope you’re fine with that.”

“Honey, if your one flaw is that you suck in the kitchen, I think I’m okay.”

“I don’t know about one flaw,” Steve laughs, setting a pan on the stove, “but it’s definitely  _ a  _ flaw.”

Once the eggs have started cooking, Steve opens another cabinet to pull down two mugs. He hands a filled mug off to Tony and says, “There’s all kinds of weird flavored creamers in the fridge if you’re interested.”

Tony makes a face, “God, no. Which one of your roommates likes that shit?”

“Bucky likes to try new ones all the time,” Steve explains, putting bread into the toaster. “I think his most recent is cinnamon roll, but the worst was definitely Peeps.”

“The more I hear about Bucky the more I question his sanity.”

“As you probably should.” He turns back to the eggs and pushes them around with a spatula. 

“And why exactly do you let these heathens live with you?” Tony leans back on the counter, propped up with his hands behind him. 

Steve shrugs, “Why not? I didn’t really like living alone, anyway. Way too much space for just me.” He sighs, deciding on whether or not to disclose more. He should, he knows, because that’s what people in relationships do, and apparently he’s in one now. “And I guess it makes it feel less like my dad’s old place and more like mine.”

“This was your dad’s place?”

“Yeah, he left it to me when he died. Not really sure why, because I hadn’t seen him in two decades, but I guess there was no one else to give it to. He wasn’t very good at maintaining relationships.”

Tony sounds slightly hesitant when he asks, “So all those boxes in what I assume should be a dining room?”

“They’re his old things, yeah. I don’t really want them, but at the same time it feels wrong to just get rid of them.”

“Worried you’ll regret it in the future,” Tony fills in. “I know about that feeling. I did the same thing when my parents died.”

Steve stares down at the pan of eggs as he asks, “How’d you get over it?”

He can hear Tony’s deep, shaky breath, and he knows without looking that he’s running a hand through his hair. 

“One day I just got sick of feeling stuck, like I was half in my own life and half in theirs. I packed everything up, threw a few possibly important things into storage and the rest wound up in some charity’s donation pile. I’m no expert, but I think that some day you’ll just know what to do, and you can’t really force it in the meantime.” 

Steve nods slowly, considering. After a quiet few seconds, Tony says, “This would be yet another time for a joke, but I guess you’re off your game today.”

Steve laughs and turns to Tony, matching his smile with one of his own. “Maybe I’m trying a new thing. Leaning into the personal conversations or whatever.”

“I’m definitely okay with that. All for it, really,” Tony says, grinning. “But while you were getting all personal, I’m pretty sure the toast turned black.”

Steve rushes over to the toaster and pops it back up. Definitely burnt. “Oh, fuck.”

“It was an understatement when you said you couldn’t cook, huh?”

“You’re at least partially to blame,” Steve says, getting a knife from the drawer so he can scrape off the darkest parts. “You could have said something.”

“And interrupt the personal talk? That would have been rude, Steve.”

He salvages what he can, and the sink is covered in a dusting of blackened crumbs when he’s done. Tony hops off the counter and digs through the fridge for butter and jelly while Steve finishes with the eggs, which are also on the edge of burnt now.

They sit at the kitchen table with their plates of food and coffee, so close that their thighs are pressed together. It’s a new type of intimacy for them, and Steve likes it already.

Tony takes a bite of the eggs, then says, “You know, for someone who trashed hospital food not ten minutes ago, your cooking tastes remarkably similar.”

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment.” 

“Whatever helps, sweetheart.”

Steve smiles into his bite of toast, and he’s about to reply when a loud yelp comes from the living room, followed by two muffled voices.

“I think one of your roommates is dying.”

“With the amount they drank last night, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Sam practically stumbles into the room and doesn’t appear to notice their presence at all as he walks over to the coffee machine. He gulps down an entire cup and goes for a refill, then finally turns around. Squinting at them over the rim of his coffee mug, he says, “So is this gonna be, like, a thing, now? Our boss in our kitchen in the mornings?”

“You mean my boyfriend in my kitchen? Yeah, probably,” Steve says. It takes half a second for him to realize that he just called Tony his boyfriend, and he freezes with his fork mid-air. He risks a glance at Tony and is met with a soft smile that relaxes the tension in his shoulders.

“Sorry, man,” Tony says, not sounding sorry at all. “But I think I’ll be making myself a fixture here from now on. Guess I’ll have to invest in ear plugs after all for all that snoring you do.”

“What? I don’t snore.”

Steve laughs, “Are you serious right now? I hear it every night.”

“And I definitely heard it coming from the couch not long ago,” Tony adds.

Bucky walks into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand as he also makes a beeline for the coffee maker, and Sam sounds indignant as he immediately drags him into the debate, “Barnes, tell them I don’t snore.”

Bucky groans, “Okay, first of all, way too loud, dude. Take it down about a hundred notches. Second of all, you snore like a goddamn freight train. You’re lucky I used to live right next to the subway tracks so I’m used to it.” 

“Told you,” Steve says. Sam looks displeased, but he doesn’t argue it further.

Bucky moves to stand next to Sam in front of the counter, both of them inhaling coffee at an alarming rate. When he stops for air, Bucky says, “So Tony gets breakfast, but we don’t?”

“Trust me, you’re not missing out,” Tony replies. 

Steve laughs, “I’m never cooking for you again.”

“That would be a public service, babe.”

“Alright, we were wrong,” Bucky’s voice cuts in. “The pining was better than this. You’re both too happy for how early it is and for how hungover I am.”

“I don’t know, Buck,” Sam says. “You weren’t there when Steve got home from that not-a-date thing they had. I can’t unhear that shit.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Once again, I hate you both.”

“Liar.”

“You love us.”

Tony grins and settles deeper into his chair, “Yeah, definitely making myself a fixture here.” 

And Steve doesn’t mind that one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let's play a game of spot the subtle Grey's Anatomy references lol


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am once again begging for forgiveness for taking so long lol. Please take some light angst as my apology.

Steve’s running late on Monday morning, and it’s completely Tony’s fault. Tony, who managed to convince him that they had enough time for shower sex when they definitely didn’t. (And maybe he’s a little to blame himself, if only for having such low willpower to say no to a proposition like that). Sam and Bucky were already leaving the apartment by the time Steve was getting dressed, shouting something about not waiting for him any longer, and making Steve trip over his jeans in his rush to get ready. 

It’s worth it, though, he thinks, even as he’s running into the locker room with only a minute left before rounds start. 

Sam offers him a smirk as he looks up from his phone. It’s not a question when he says, “So you had a good morning.”

Steve feels his cheeks heat up as he opens his locker. “What makes you say that?” 

“Two people going into the bathroom together for a long time while the shower’s running? There’s no way in hell you actually thought you were being discreet about it. ” 

Actually, he did think that. They’d tried hard to be quiet, muffling sounds into hands and each other’s skin, but it must not have been enough.

“Sorry, Sam.”

Sam shrugs, “Nothing to be sorry about. Although it’s definitely your job to clean the shower next. And preferably soon.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Steve grins. He glances over at Bucky and Natasha, who are huddled close together on the bench and wrapped up enough in their own conversation that they don’t seem to notice Steve at all. Nat laughs at something Bucky said, touching his arm in a way that might seem casual from anyone but Nat. Tilting his head in their direction, he asks Sam, “When did that happen?”

“No clue, but they’ve been flirting all damn morning.”

“Did I miss something at the party?” He pulls off his jeans, replacing them with the scrub pants. 

“You missed a lot of things at that party, but I don’t think that was one of them.”

Steve doesn’t get a chance to respond before rounds are starting, and Dr. Potts sends him a withering look while he quickly tugs down the top of his scrubs on the way out of the locker room. He gives her an apologetic smile but receives an unusual huff and an eye roll in response as she turns to lead them down the hallway. Following with the others, he shares a glance with Sam, who shrugs as an answer to the unspoken question. 

Dr. Potts stops a few feet from the end of the hall and turns back around to face them. “Before we go into this room, let me remind you all of your patient sensitivity training. You are not to react in any way to what you are about to see. You will be kind and respectful and think before you speak. If you cannot be a professional, do us all a favor and just switch specialities now.”

She opens the door, and Steve does his best to maintain a neutral face at the sight of the patient, whose tumor is almost as large as their actual body, even as Bucky whispers behind him, “Holy shit. What is that?”

Bucky becomes the next victim of Dr. Potts’s glare, which is less unusual, as she crosses the room to stand next to where Tony and Dr. Banner already are. 

“Good morning, Ms. Thompson. These are my interns, you’ll be seeing a few of them around today.”

Dr. Banner jumps into the explanation after introductions are made, “Ms. Thompson came into the ER last night with shortness of breath, the cause of which is the tumor of unknown origin compressing her diaphragm.” 

“We’ll need more scans to better visualize the tumor, with the hope that we can make a plan to remove it,” Tony says, fiddling with the chart in his hand. He glances up briefly, casual as he says, “Rogers, Barnes, you’re both on this one.”

Steve sees the way Dr. Potts’s jaw clenches out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t have time to wonder about it before he’s being handed the chart, and Tony’s talking about the scans they need.

“Come find me later when those are done, and we’ll get started on that plan,” Tony says. On his way out of the room, he claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder, right over a mark he left the day before, and Steve smiles to himself. 

“Make yourselves busy,” Dr. Potts says, turning towards the door, “I need to have a word with Dr. Stark.”

Dr. Banner begins talking to Ms. Thompson again, giving the four of them the opportunity to slip out of the room. Nat decides to head to the ER to find interesting cases, and Sam follows suit. 

Once they’re gone, Bucky says, “So what’d you do to piss off Potts?”

“You noticed that, too?” Steve asks, running a hand through his hair. “I thought maybe I was being paranoid.”

“No, she’s definitely mad.” 

Steve sets the chart down on the counter of the nurses’ station and flips it open, starting on the forms needed for the scans. 

“Maybe it’s not actually at me, though. She glared at you, too.”

“She always glares at me,” Bucky waves away the suggestion. “I’m the proud problem child of our group. You, though, she never glares at you. And she needed to have a word with Stark? Seems suspicious.”

Steve doesn’t want to think about it, because he knows how quickly it would devolve into overthinking, so instead he says, “You know what’s suspicious? You and Nat.”

“Me and Nat? What about me and Nat?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Bucky frowns, “No, I don’t think I do.”

Steve looks up from the chart, eyebrows raised, “Are you really telling me you weren’t flirting with her this morning?”

“What? Come on, Steve, we’re friends.”

“Friends who flirt, apparently,” Steve chuckles. “And you can’t tell me I imagined the flirting because Sam saw it too.”

“There was no flirting,” Bucky insists. Steve gives a noncommittal hum in response, and Bucky concedes, “There was maybe a little flirting.”

Steve tries his best not to smirk. “So when did that become a thing that you two do?”

“I don’t know, I guess it sort of started the other night at the party. We were both drunk, though, so I didn’t think she meant it.”

“Sam said he didn’t notice anything at the party when I asked about it,” Steve says. 

Bucky laughs, “Sam passed out twenty minutes after you went upstairs with Tony. He’s a lightweight.”

Steve finishes with the forms and closes the chart for now. “But you and Nat, how much of a thing is that?”

“I don’t know yet,” Bucky shrugs. 

“Well if you need relationship advice,” Steve starts jokingly, but Bucky interrupts to tease, “I know better than to ask you.” 

“Who else do you have to ask? I’m the only one of us in a relationship.”

“Your relationship is three days old and took over a month to happen in the first place.”

“And with my advice you too could have a successful three day relationship.”

“What an aspiration,” Bucky deadpans. “But I think I’m going to go ahead and skip the month of pining, thanks.”

“Good plan, go straight for the full weekend of sex.”

“Wow, I  _ really  _ didn’t need to know that much about your weekend. But I guess I should thank you for being quiet enough that I could at least pretend it wasn’t happening.”

“Sam’s snoring can drown out just about anything,” Steve says. 

“Ain’t that the truth,” Bucky agrees. He drums his fingers against the counter for a moment, then says, “So I’ll get the labs, you get the scans?”

Steve nods, “Sounds good.”

They go back into the room, which Dr. Banner has since left, and make idle conversation with Ms. Thompson while Bucky draws blood for new labs. He doesn’t have to say much, with Ms. Thompson filling every pause with something about her life in the way that only older people can. By the time he’s taking her to radiology, he knows more about her than he does just about anyone else. 

“This might take a little while,” he says in an apologetic tone. “Radiology’s a bit backed up right now.”

“That’s quite fine, dear. At least I’ve got something nice to look at,” she playfully replies, turning in the wheelchair to send him a wink. He feels the blush spread, but he’s saved from having to respond to the comment when she continues on her own. “In fact, I’ve got quite the team of good looking men, don’t I? That Dr. Stark is something else, isn’t he?”

“Oh, um, he’s a great surgeon,” Steve stammers. He swallows hard, tries to maintain his professional demeanor, “You’re in good hands with him, Ms. Thompson.”

Ms. Thompson laughs, “I’m sure I am, but please call me Annie. Ms. Thompson makes me feel so old.”

“Of course, Annie.”

“No ring on him, though,” she says thoughtfully. “Hard to believe a man like that hasn’t been snatched up yet.”

“I, uh, don’t think he’s single, actually.”

There’s a brief lull, but Annie easily fills the silence again before it can settle in, talking through the near hour they spend together waiting for the CT machine to be available. She goes right back to it again when the scans are complete, and he feels mentally drained from all of it by the time she’s settled back in her room. 

Scans in hand, he heads in the direction of Tony’s office, hoping to run into him around there. The hallways are empty of him, though, and he’s reaching for his phone to send him a message instead when he realizes that the light in Tony’s office is actually on. In the time Steve’s known him, he’s never seen the other man use his office for anything other than the coat rack. It’s odd, and he pauses just outside the open door for a second before knocking on the frame. 

“I’ve got those scans for Ms. Thompson that you asked for,” he says when Tony looks up from his computer. 

“Oh, good,” Tony says, holding out his hand for the folder, which Steve hands over. He holds the scans up to the light for a moment, rotating through them. When he’s done, he slides them back into the folder and sets it on his desk without comment. 

Steve can feel the strange tension in the air between them, see it in the hard set of Tony’s jaw as he turns his attention back to his computer screen, but he doesn’t know where it came from. 

“Is everything okay?” he asks hesitantly. 

“Fine,” is Tony’s terse reply.

Steve takes a step forward, moving further into the room. “Doesn’t really seem that way.” 

“I have to kick you off this case,” Tony says without looking at him. It’s devoid of any emotion, like Steve is a complete stranger and not the person he spent the entire weekend having first, second, and third dates with. 

“What? Why?”

“Pepper seems to think I’m giving you cases because you’re sleeping with me, and apparently she’s not the only one who thinks that.”

Steve closes the door behind him, realizing the need to have this conversation in private, and sits in the chair opposite Tony, the desk between them, to process that. “I thought you said she was okay with us. That she probably already knew, but she wouldn’t do anything to me for it.”

Tony throws his hands in the air, finally displaying an emotion, even if anger isn’t the one Steve would have wanted. “Well, I guess I was wrong. She thinks I’ve been favoring you since the beginning, and when she saw us together at that party it confirmed it.”

“So she was pissed at me this morning,” Steve says, mostly to himself, and folds down on himself, elbows on his knees.

“You’re not the only one she’s pissed at,” Tony sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I believe the term ‘abuse of power’ was used quite a bit. That and ‘you should know better, Tony’.”

Steve winces, “That bad, huh?”

“Have you had Pepper yell at you yet? She’s very good at making you feel bad for things you’re not even doing,” Tony says. The anger has faded into something like dejection. “You know I’m not assigning you cases because of our relationship, right?”

“Of course I know that.”

Tony scrubs his hand over his face, then runs it through his hair. He slumps back in his chair, sounding rueful as he says, “It didn’t take long for things to get complicated, did it?” 

“Guess we lasted a whole ten minutes today.”

Tony cracks a small smile, but it seems forced, unable to meet his eyes. “I know that you said - that we both said that we were in this, but I think I should offer you an out. No hard feelings required.”

Steve feels his heart leap into his throat. “Do you want out?”

“No, I don’t,” Tony sighs, “but it’s not that simple, and it’s not up to me.” 

“It could be, though. That simple.”

“Didn’t we just agree that it’s complicated?”

He takes a long breath, preparing the right words. “But it doesn’t have to be. You and me, that part’s simple. Falling into this was one of the easiest things I’ve ever done. I don’t want to give that up just because the rest of it might be a little messy. I made up my mind about us a while ago, before I ever asked you out on that date. I don’t want an out from this.” 

“Look, Steve, all of that’s nice, and you know how much I like you, but what do you suppose we do about ‘the rest of it’? Like you said, we only made it ten minutes before someone basically accused me of manipulating you.” 

Steve shrugs, “We just don’t give anyone a reason to think there’s any favoritism happening. And maybe that means we don’t really work together anymore, and maybe I’ll be stuck with Hammer any time I work with cardio, but I can live with that.”

“Really? You can live with Hammer?” Tony smiles, a little shaky, but definitely real this time. “You’re a brave man for that.”

“For you I think I can make it work.”

Tony sighs again, “You’re going to miss out on cases that you might have otherwise been on, like this one. Cases you might have deserved.”

“But that’s my call to make, right? And if I say that I’m okay with it, that I want you regardless of that, then you’re just going to have to believe me.”

Tony gives him a long, assessing look, like he’s trying to find the hidden lie in his words. “Alright,” he finally says, nodding slowly, “but if you become not so okay with it, if it stops being worth it, I’ll understand. I won’t hold it against you later on, either.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Steve says resolutely. 

“It might,” Tony disagrees. “You could change your mind tomorrow.”

Steve stands and crosses to the other side of the desk, half-sitting on the edge of it. He holds out his hands and when Tony takes them, he pulls him up to stand in front of him. 

He takes a moment just to look into Tony’s eyes, letting him see every emotion in Steve’s own. All of the sincerity and want, and something like love, though he won’t dare call it that yet. It’s on it’s way there, though - just on the edge of something spectacular. 

“Nothing’s changed between us, you know,” Steve says, voice just above a whisper even though they’re completely alone. The words feel too big to be spoken louder, like they might break them both. “Between this morning and now, it’s still the same. I still want you.” 

Tony’s gaze flickers down from Steve’s eyes to his lips, then back up again, and it’s the only warning Steve gets before he’s being pulled down into a rough kiss. Steve takes control of it after a few seconds, slowing down the desperation a bit. He’s suddenly extremely grateful he shut the door as Tony wraps his arms around him, every inch of space between them eliminated. 

When they break apart, Tony doesn’t go far, tucking his head into the crook of Steve’s neck. His hair smells like Steve’s shampoo, and he likes that maybe more than he should.

Tony’s voice is muffled against Steve’s skin as he asks, “Promise?” He sounds more vulnerable than Steve has heard before. It’s another side of him, and Steve wonders just how many more he has yet to see.

“Promise.” 

“Pepper’s going to make your life hell, you know.”

“I can take it,” Steve says. “I’m not scared of her.”

Tony laughs and lifts his head, “Oh so naive, darling.” His eyes are brighter now, filled with happiness, and Steve revels in being the cause. 

He leans in, presses a kiss to the tip of Tony’s nose just because he can. 

“Guess I better go look for some other massive tumor case to be on,” he says. 

Tony hums, absentmindedly running his fingers across Steve’s shoulders, “I heard there’s a guy in the ER who swallowed a bunch of doll heads.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, one of the residents talking about it. I think there’s like ten of them in there.”

“Damn,” Steve whistles. “No offense, babe, but I think I need to ditch you right now to go see that.”

Tony grins, “I’d expect nothing less. Text me if it’s worth seeing.”

“Will do,” Steve says. He gives Tony one last quick kiss before heading out the door. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short one, but I didn't want to keep you all waiting any longer! The next chapter will pick right up where this one left off and will hopefully be up in the next week or so (don't hold me to that lol).

“You guys aren’t going to believe this.”

“Good morning to you, too, Bucky,” Steve says, looking up from his bowl of cereal. “Most people start with that, you know.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Do you want to hear this or not?”

“Hear what?” Tony walks into the kitchen, running his hand through his shower-damp hair. He pauses at the table, bends down to press a kiss to Steve’s cheek, then continues onto the coffee machine. Sam hands him a mug automatically, just like every morning of the last week and half. 

“Nat just texted me,” Bucky says, pulling out the chair across from Steve at the table. He reaches for the box of cereal and grabs a handful. “She stayed at the hospital last night to troll for cases, and apparently there’s this guy who thinks he’s psychic.”

Sam turns around from where he stands in front of the stove, working on a pan of eggs. “So he’s a psych case, not surgical. Why are you telling us this?”

Bucky shakes his head and swallows a mouthful of dry cereal, “Because he’s, like, actually psychic. He’s been predicting shit all night, and Nat said he’s gotten everything right. He said someone on the fourth floor would die, and literally two minutes later someone did.”

“Fourth floor is the ICU,” Tony says dismissively. He grabs a bowl and spoon and joins Steve at the table. “People die there all the time.”

“Okay, sure, but Nat said he made one of the nurses cry because he said something that connected to her grandfather who just died a few days ago, and the nurse said it was something that no one else would have ever known about.”

“Nat believes this guy?” Steve asks, eyebrows raised.

“She might have been making fun of him when she told me all of this,” Bucky admits. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not real!”

“You know what does mean it’s not real?” Sam says, sliding into the seat next to Bucky with his breakfast. “The fact that psychics don’t exist.”

“So Sam and Nat are disbelievers,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes again. “Tony?”

“Not real,” Tony says immediately. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he had a brain tumor, though. Would make it seem real to him.”

“Okay, three for fake. You’re all lame. Steve? Come on, man, be with me on this one.”

Steve glances around the table, where everyone is waiting for his answer, and shrugs noncommittally. “I don’t know. Guess I’ll have to meet him for myself.”

Bucky grins, “We’ll go after rounds, as long as neither of us get assigned anything else.”

“We both know I’m not getting assigned anything,” Steve replies, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Tony feels guilty enough about the situation already, and he promised himself he wouldn’t make it worse.

“Your status as pariah of the interns is gonna pay off today, then,” Bucky says.

“Yeah, you’ll get to see a guy who’s either experiencing delusions or is purposely manipulating people,” Sam says. “Lucky you.”

“Why can’t there be a third option where it’s real? You should at least meet him before you decide he’s a liar,” Bucky says indignantly. 

“Okay, fine,” Sam says, “I’ll come with you, and we’ll all see for ourselves that it’s fake.”

Tony sighs wistfully from his seat next to Steve, “I miss the days when brain tumors were this exciting.”

“Not a brain tumor,” Bucky immediately corrects. “Psychic visions.”

Steve laughs and nudges Tony’s knee with his own, making him turn his head, “Do you want to come? Be excited about brain tumors with us?” 

“Why not? I don’t have any surgeries until this afternoon, anyway.”

Bucky pumps his fist in the air, “This is gonna be great, I’m telling you.”

“I’ll disprove him in less than a minute,” Sam says. 

“And just how are you going to do that?” Bucky asks. 

Sam shrugs, pausing to swallow another bite before replying, “All those guys do is read body language. They say something, watch you react, and they know if they’re on the right path and keep going. All I’ll have to do is react to the things that aren’t true, and all of the sudden he’s telling me about my brother who doesn’t even exist.”

“I’m seeing some opportunity for a really interesting bet here,” Tony chimes in. He looks over at Steve with a smirk, visibly proud at the way he’s managed to stir the pot even more, and Steve has to hide his laugh with a cough. 

“I’m down for that,” Sam says immediately. 

“You’re on. I don’t even care what the terms are.”

“Oh, really?” Sam grins. “Then maybe we should do a mystery punishment. Winner’s choice after the bet is already won. Nothing’s off the table.”

Bucky sticks out his hand, “I’m not afraid of that.”

Sam shakes it. “You should be. You  _ really  _ should be.” 

“Wait,” Tony says, “is there a time frame for disproving him? Sam’s talking a pretty big game about less than a minute.”

Both Sam and Bucky have to think about that for a second, then Bucky says, “No time frame. Just before the end of our shift. It’ll be just as real then as it is now.”

“So completely, one hundred percent fake?” 

“You will eat your words, Sam Wilson,” Bucky says, pointing his finger at him. “You will regret this moment for the rest of your life.”

“I’m trembling with fear,” Sam deadpans.

Steve leans over and whispers in Tony’s ear, “I think I hate you for this.”

Tony looks at him with a grin, “I keep your life entertaining. You love it.”

Sam finishes the last of his eggs and stands from the table to put his plate in the sink. The movement prompts the rest of them to follow, realizing the time. At the door, Steve hands Tony his jacket, then reaches for his own. The two of them linger behind a bit while Sam and Bucky walk out, giving themselves a moment alone before they have to turn into professionals again. 

Tony pulls him in by his jacket, and it’s almost a kiss goodbye, even though they aren’t technically parting ways just yet. 

Sam and Bucky are a few feet ahead of them by the time they walk out the door, already wrapped up in a different conversation, or perhaps continuing the previous argument. Tony’s hand bumps his as they start to walk, and Steve takes it in his own. He doesn’t quite know when it became second nature for him to do that, but likes the way he can do it without thinking now - without worrying that it might be unwelcome. But it does prompt a different line of thinking. 

“Hey, we should stay at your place tonight.”

“My place? Why?” Tony questions, eyebrows knit together.

“Because we’ve been actually dating for almost two weeks, and we’ve only ever stayed at mine, and it’s kind of weird that I haven’t been to yours yet,” Steve says. “Especially when mine has roommates and yours doesn’t.”

“I like your roommates.”

Steve smiles, “I know, and I’m happy that you like them and they like you. But I’d also be happy to not have to be so quiet when we have sex.”

Tony bites his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth, and doesn’t say anything. Steve’s smile fades as he asks, “What’s wrong with me seeing your place?”

“Nothing,” Tony says quickly. “I just like being at yours.”

“Well, we can come back to mine tomorrow, then.”

“Why do you want to go to mine at all?” Tony asks. “We’ve been good like this.”

Steve frowns, “Because I want to know you.”

“You do know me.”

“I want to know  _ more  _ of you,” Steve says. “That’s what dating is, isn’t it?”

Tony sighs as they come to a stop right before a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn. Sam and Bucky crossed already and are far ahead of them now. 

“I just don’t think staying at my place is part of that.”

Steve is getting more confused by the second. “Where the hell do you live that I can’t see it?”

Tony sighs, “It’s just - it can be intimidating, okay?”

“Intimidating?” Steve repeats.

“Maybe that’s not the right word. But it’s a lot, and not everyone reacts so great to it.” 

The light turns, and the hospital starts to come into sight down the road. The conversation doesn’t seem nearly over, though, and Steve slows their pace to drag it out. 

“I’m going to need more of an explanation than that.”

“Can we just -” he breaks off, running his hand through his hair, “Can we talk about it later?”

Steve gives in, seeing the tension in Tony’s face, “Yeah, okay. Later.”

Tony offers a small smile, “I swear it’s nothing bad.”

“I trust you,” Steve says easily, squeezing Tony’s hand lightly in his own. 

Tony’s face goes through a series of microexpressions at that, so many emotions briefly flitting through that Steve can’t quite pin them down, but surprise seems to be in there. 

“Is that really so hard to believe?”

A light blush colors Tony’s cheeks, matching the pink already left on his ears from the wind. 

“Guess I’m not so used to healthy relationships,” he says. His tone suggests that it’s a joke, but the words sound real enough to make Steve pause. His grip on Tony’s hand causes him to stop, too, eyebrows knit in clear confusion. “What?”

Steve pulls him closer, stepping to the side to get out of the way of other pedestrians, who didn’t seem so happy with the sudden stop already. More firmly he repeats, “I trust you.”

“Okay, yeah. I trust you, too,” Tony says, but it sounds dismissive, like he just wants the moment to be over.

“Do you?” Steve can’t help but ask, and Tony looks slightly pained. “It’s not an accusation. I would understand if you’re not there yet. It hasn’t been that long, and maybe we’re not quite at the same place, and that’s okay. I just hope you know that you can. Trust me, that is.” 

Tony looks flustered now, eyes darting from side to side. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Steve says, and the relief is evident. “I just wanted you to know that. And we are good, by the way. You’re right about that. But I think no matter how much I get, I’m always going to want more of you.”

He blushes furiously, mouth twisting like he wants to smile but he’s holding it back. 

“You’re a complete sap, aren’t you?” Tony finally says, laughing. “I’m dating the world’s sappiest human being. It’s absolutely disgusting.”

Steve grins, “You gonna tell me you don’t like it?”

“Not at all.”

“Then shut up,” Steve says playfully. 

He tugs on Tony’s hand, and they start down the street once again. Sam and Bucky are completely out of sight by now, likely more than a full block ahead of them. 

“I’m just saying,” Tony starts. “A couple months ago you wouldn’t even go on a date with me, and now you’re out here waxing poetic. When you commit to something, you’re really all in, huh?”

“Yeah, and you should jump in with me. It’s a lot of fun in the deep end.”

Steve bumps him with his hip, and Tony laughs again, pulling him in closer by the hand. “And what if I can’t swim?”

“Then it’s a good thing I can.”

Tony shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. “I hate this metaphor, by the way.”

“It’s not the best, but I was kind of put on the spot there,” Steve says. There’s an equally fond smile on his own face, and he knows they must look a little goofy, holding hands and grinning on the sidewalk at 6:30 in the morning, but Steve can’t bring himself to care. “I wasn’t planning on playing the reassuring boyfriend role this morning.”

“But you played it quite well regardless. Excellent improv skills.”

“They’re a little rusty, but I do what I can.”

Tony hums, “I’ll give you a lot of practice, I’m sure.”

Steve brings Tony’s hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I’m up for the challenge.”

“I hope you are.”

They’re close to the hospital now, and Steve regretfully drops Tony’s hand as they approach the doors. Their relationship isn’t exactly a secret - how can it be when everyone’s been gossiping about it? - but they try not to be overtly public with it. 

“See you after rounds?”

Tony nods, “I’ll meet you at the psychic’s room.” He rolls his eyes after the word ‘psychic,’ and Steve laughs. 

“Alright, see you then, doll.”

“Have fun in rounds, darling,” Tony says, walking backwards towards the elevators with a wink. 


	15. Chapter 15

A stroke of luck hits during rounds when Dr. Potts assigns Steve to the alleged psychic’s case. She probably views it as a punishment, sticking him with the patient that has doctors and nurses either leaving his room in tears or wanting to rip their hair out in annoyance, but she doesn’t realize that it’s the best case scenario for him. If it’s real, he’ll get to witness something like a miracle, and if it’s fake, he might get to diagnose a brain tumor. A win-win, really.

Bucky and Sam are unfortunately not so lucky and despite their best efforts to get all the answers wrong, end up on cases of their own, both boring in comparison to his own case, which is how he ends up with just Tony by his side for his first meeting with the psychic. Although, he thinks, he should probably start referring to him by his actual name if he’s going to be spending the day with him.

“So,” Steve whispers, a few feet away from the door of the patient’s room, “do you think we’re supposed to ask him about something, or will he just tell us? Like, is part of the deal that he already knows what you want to know about?”

Tony laughs, “Please tell me you don’t actually think this is real.”

“Why not?” Steve shrugs. “It could be. I’m going in with an open mind.”

Tony holds up his hands in surrender, “Okay, fine. If your mind is open so is mine.” Steve smiles, and Tony continues, “And a real psychic should know the answer without ever hearing the question.”

“You think so?”

“I do,” Tony says, “Otherwise he’s just guessing answers. Chances are he’s going to guess it right enough times that people that want to believe that it’s true will.”

“So what do you want him to tell you about? If you tell me, then I’ll know if he’s right or not.”

Tony gets a pensive look on his face and takes a few seconds before saying, “I don’t know. I don’t think I have anything.”

“Nothing?” Tony shakes his head. “There’s nothing you wish you knew about? It can be anything in the world.”

“Well what’s yours then?”

“I -” Steve starts, then stops with a frown. “Give me a second.”

Tony grins, “You don’t have anything either.”

“He’ll know without either of us even knowing, and that’s how we’ll know it’s real,” Steve decides. 

“This is insane. You know that, right?”

“That doesn’t sound very open-minded of you.”

“My mind is 73 percent open.”

“What’s the other 27 doing?”

“Making fun of you,” Tony says. “It’s got some pretty good jokes, too.”

Steve laughs, “Let’s just go in.”

Tony gestures for him to lead the way, and Steve does. He knocks twice, then opens the door with a smile for the man in the bed. The man is unassuming - in his late twenties with light brown hair and traces of five o’clock shadow on his cheeks. He’s someone most people wouldn’t look twice at, but he has the look of someone who’s used to watching. 

“Mr. Sanderson,” Steve greets. “I’m Dr. Rogers. I’ve been assigned to your case. And Dr. Stark here will be observing.”

Mr. Sanderson narrows his eyes at him for a brief moment, then turns his assessing stare to Tony. Steve feels anxious suddenly, like he’s being handed his sentence in court. 

“There’s a strange energy between the two of you.”

Steve glances at Tony, who seems to be hiding a laugh behind his hand. He elects to ignore the comment and forges ahead with his actual job. Chart in hand, he flips it open to review the test results they received earlier this morning and the list of symptoms from last night.

“So I understand you’ve been experiencing headaches, blurred vision, and nausea.”

“From my visions,” Mr. Sanderson supplies.

“Right,” Steve says slowly. “How long have you been experiencing those symptoms?”

“How long have the two of you been sleeping together?” Mr. Sanderson asks instead, and Steve almost chokes on the air. 

“We’re not,” Tony lies easily, even sounding appropriately shocked to make it seem like a suggestion he’s never heard before. 

Mr. Sanderson sighs, and his head drops back against the pillow, “So you’ve heard about my gift and want to disprove them by lying.”

“I’m sorry, could we get back to your symptoms, Mr. Sanderson?” Steve interjects before Tony can reply. “How long have you been experiencing them?”

“The headaches for a few months. The others for a couple of weeks,” he answers. “Not very long for the two of you, I’d say. Two months, perhaps.”

Steve tries not to react as he continues, “And the seizure you had early this morning, the one that brought you in here, was that the first one you’ve had?”

“The seizures come sometimes with a particularly strong vision,” he says dismissively. “You should really be more concerned with what your boyfriend is hiding from you than my seizures.”

He can’t help but react to that one. “What are you talking about?”

“His secrets go so deep they’re hard to see,” is the cryptic answer he receives. 

Steve looks at Tony, whose expression is a mixture of annoyed and nervous. He can’t tell if he’s nervous because of what was said or nervous for how Steve might react to it. 

“How many seizures would you estimate you’ve had, Mr. Sanderson?” 

“Interesting reaction to being told your boyfriend is lying to you.”

“I don’t believe that he is,” Steve says patiently. “Now could you please tell me how many seizures you’ve had?”

Mr. Sanderson hums, “But he is your boyfriend. I do appreciate the confirmation.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and wishes Tony wasn’t staying quiet beside him. Why isn’t he helping him out with this mess?

“The seizures, please,” Steve says again. “It’s important that we have this information, so we can actually diagnose their cause.”

“There’s been a few. I don’t exactly keep track.”

“How many is a few? Once a month? More than that?”

“Was there an argument this morning? I’m telling you, there’s some tension here.”

Tony finally speaks to say, “Okay, I think I’m officially a distraction here. I’m gonna just head out.” Tony turns to leave, but stops in the doorway and turns back around, “For the record, though, it wasn’t an argument. We’re fine.”

Mr. Sanderson laughs, as Tony walks out, and when he’s gone, he questions, “If you’re really fine, does the record matter?”

Steve stares at him for a long moment, wondering where the line is here. A part of him wants to ask for more, while the other part just wants to do his job and leave. As he’s thinking about it, he realizes exactly why Dr. Potts saw this as a punishment.

“Mr. Sanderson,” Steve sighs.

“You can call me Kevin. I know enough about you to get us on a first name basis.”

“Kevin, I’m not doubting your psychic visions,” Steve says, but he isn’t sure himself if he’s lying or not, “but I really do need to know more about your history of seizures. Can we save the analysis for later?”

He thankfully acquiesces, “I had one last week, and two weeks before that. They’ve been happening for a while.”

“Have you seen a doctor before for this?” Kevin shakes his head, and Steve says, “I’m going to check with my resident, but I think it would be best to get an MRI of your brain to see there’s something causing them.”

Kevin sighs, “They’re just my visions.”

“Maybe,” Steve won’t argue with a patient. “But we’ll do our due diligence anyway.”

Steve is ready to leave the room, tucking the chart under his arm and reaching for the door handle, when Kevin says, “You still think of it as your father’s place, don’t you?” and Steve stops in his tracks.

“What?”

Kevin doesn’t say anything else, but there’s a knowing smile on his face that makes Steve feel uneasy. He gets why so many people have quit his case in the few hours he’s been admitted. There’s nothing intensely personal about the things he’s said, but it’s still more intimate than it should be for someone he just met. 

Steve walks down the hall, chart in hand, with the intention of finding Dr. Potts. His best bet is the ER, so he starts heading there. 

He’s in the stairwell when he almost literally runs into Bucky, who’s opening the door to the third floor landing when Steve’s crossing in front of it.

“Oh, shit,” Bucky says, balancing himself with a hand on Steve’s arm. “My bad.”

“You’re fine.” Steve waves it off, and Bucky starts down the stairs next to him.

“So what was the psychic like? Did he tell you anything? Please tell me he told you something crazy, I really need to win this bet.”

“Honestly, he’s kind of annoying,” Steve says, the uneasy feeling returning. “It’s like he’s desperate to prove it’s real, so it’s all he can talk about.”

“But was it real? What’d he say?”

Steve shrugs, “He guessed that Tony and I are dating after twenty seconds, said Tony’s hiding something from me, and he thinks that we had an argument this morning. Oh, and he knew that I live in my dad’s old place, which was weird.”

Bucky’s eyes go wide. “Oh my god, I’m so winning this bet.”

“None of that makes him a psychic,” Steve argues. It’s strange how he went from somewhat wanting it to be real to hoping it’s fake within just ten minutes. 

“But wait, did you and Tony have an argument this morning? I didn’t see that.”

He pushes open the door to the first floor, and they walk together towards the ER, whether Bucky was intending to go there originally or not. 

“Sort of? I don’t know, maybe.”

“How do you maybe have an argument with someone?” Bucky questions. “You either did or you didn’t.”

Steve sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “It was an argument per se, but it wasn’t not an argument, either. He’s just - he’s being weird about showing me where he lives.”

“You haven’t seen his place yet?”

“You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed that he’s literally always at ours. He’s in our kitchen every morning. We all walk to work together,” Steve points out.

“Yeah, I know, but I assumed that at some point you went to his,” Bucky shrugs. “I just thought you both liked being at ours better. You know, for the wonderful company.”

Steve shakes his head, “Nope. He’s never mentioned going to his place at all. I don’t even know where it is.”

“Hm, and now the psychic is saying he’s hiding something from you. You think that’s it?” Bucky asks, then he stops walking and puts his hand on Steve’s arm. “Oh,  _ no _ , Steve.”

“What?” Steve asks, confused by the sudden stop in the middle of the hall.

“What if he’s a hoarder?”

It surprises a laugh out of Steve. “He’s not a hoarder, Buck.”

“You don’t know that!” Steve starts walking again, and Bucky has to jog a couple of steps to catch back up. “It’s totally possible. What other reason is there?”

“Probably a dozen others.”

“Name one,” Bucky says. 

“I don’t know, he said it was intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” Bucky repeats with a frown. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t have a damn clue.”

They’re already at the entrance to the ER, and they stop next to the doors to finish the conversation. 

“So,” Bucky says pointedly, “just to be clear, the psychic said that you and Tony are dating, which is true. He also said that Tony’s hiding something from you, which is clearly true as well. Then he said that you two had an argument this morning, and we’re just going to say that it’s true, but you don’t want to admit it.”

“Those weren’t exactly hard leaps to make,” Steve argues. “People around here gossip all the time. He could have heard our names from anyone.”

“What about the argument? And the hiding thing?”

“Couples argue.”

“Okay, fine, but what about the fact that he knew about your dad?” Bucky snaps his fingers like he’s onto something. “That’s not something anyone would just guess.”

Steve doesn’t have an answer for that, and he says as much. Bucky grins in triumph. “What do you think I should make Sam do after I win?” 

“Oh, God,” Steve groans. “Can’t you just let it go? Let the victory be good enough? You know that when you and Sam torture each other it’s torture for me, too.”

Bucky looks offended by the suggestion. “And just let this opportunity go to waste? I can do literally  _ anything  _ I want _. _ He gave me carte blanche like a goddamn fool, and he will learn his lesson, Steve.”

“Wasn’t the bet over Sam being able to disprove it himself? You haven’t even come close to winning yet.”

“Sam can’t disprove him if it’s real,” Bucky says. “And you, my new favorite friend, have just proven that it’s real.”

Steve snorts, “I think I’d take more pride in being your favorite friend if you had more than two others.”

“You’re one to talk.”

He laughs, then asks, “What are you doing down here, anyway? I thought you were on that appendectomy.”

“Surgery’s not ‘til later,” Bucky says. “Hoping to see something cool in the meantime. What about you? Why aren’t you still with your psychic?”

“He needs an MRI. I have to talk to Dr. Potts.”

“Have fun with that,” Bucky replies. He spots something through the doors of the ER and grins, “I gotta go. I am so getting in on that.”

Steve looks over just in time to see the hammer sticking out of someone’s chest before the gurney is rolled into a trauma room and out of sight. Bucky runs off with a wave, immediately heading into the room with the hammer guy. 

Glancing around the ER, Steve spots Dr. Potts fairly quickly. He walks over to where she is, writing notes in a chart at the nurses’ station, and steels himself for the conversation. 

“Excuse me, Dr. Potts,” he pauses, then continues when she doesn’t look up. “I need your approval to get an MRI for Mr. Sanderson.”

“Why does he need one?” 

It’s a test - she already knows the answer. “His repeated seizures could be caused by a number of things, but since his blood work is clean, the most likely cause at this point would be an issue with his brain, which the MRI will likely show.”

She nods, continuing to look down at her work. “Page me when you have the results.”

She’s apparently through with the conversation, because she flips the chart closed and walks away before Steve can respond. He tries to remember if every interaction has always been this way, or if this is a new development in the last week. Either way, it’s definitely personal now. It bothers him less and less every day, though, and soon it shouldn’t bother him at all. 

Steve’s about to leave the ER and head back upstairs when he catches a glimpse of Tony already heading out. He’s distracted by the phone in his hand, and he jumps slightly when Steve touches his arm. 

“Oh, hey darling,” Tony says, slipping the phone into his back pocket. “What’re you doing down here? Thought you’d still be with Dead Zone up there.”

Steve smiles, “He needs an MRI, and I had to get Dr. Potts to sign off on it. And that reference doesn’t really work, by the way.”

“How doesn’t it? They’re both psychics,” Tony says, then he corrects, “Well one is, the other is just a creepy guy with a brain tumor.”

“First of all, Dead Zone’s the name of the movie, not the name of the character. Second, I’m pretty sure in Dead Zone he had to touch things to get visions. Also, that’s just a crazy out of date reference, old man.”

“Hey, I’m younger than that movie,” Tony scoffs. “And for an out of date reference, you seem to know it pretty well.”

Steve laughs, then says, “But we should really get back to what Dead Zone said about us.”

“I thought you didn’t want to call him that,” Tony says, completely ignoring Steve’s actual point.

“I kind of like it, even if it’s not quite accurate” Steve replies. “Seriously, though. Can we talk about that? You seemed weird.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Tony, come on,” he prods, purposely brushing Tony’s hand with his own, then recreating the gap between them for appearance’s sake. “You can’t tell me it isn’t strange that we were talking about how I haven’t seen your place yet just this morning, and then a creepy guy with a brain tumor says that you’re hiding things from me.” Before Tony can argue, he quickly continues, “And I’m not saying I don’t trust you, because I don’t go back on my word like that. I just want to talk about it.”

Tony sighs, “If I don’t tell you about it it’s going to bother you all day isn’t it?”

“Whatever it is, it won’t matter. I just want to know.” 

“Fine,” Tony relents fairly easily. “I’m going to my office anyway, come with me?”

Steve nods, and they walk up the stairs together. He feels anxious the whole walk, even if he does truly believe that it won’t matter.

Tony waits until they’re in the office before saying anything. He leans against the front of his desk, half sitting on it while Steve stands in front of the closed door. Opening his mouth, he closes it again and frowns.

“This is going to sound so stupid.”

“So just say it,” Steve suggests.

“I’ve built it up too much,” he says, looking annoyed with himself. “You wouldn’t have cared, but I made it a thing, and now it’s anticlimactic.”

“Tony,” Steve laughs. “Spit it out already.”

Tony groans, rubbing his temples, “Fuck this psychic guy.”

Steve takes a few steps forward to stand next to Tony instead of across from him. Tony leans over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder, and murmurs, “I regret everything.”

“What a lovely lesson you’re learning for the future, though,” Steve teases.

Tony smiles, tilting his head so he’s looking up at Steve. “We’ll go to my place this weekend, okay? But I’m going to warn you right now that it’s not exactly normal.”

“Oh, God, Bucky was right, wasn’t he?” He says it with enough seriousness that Tony can’t tell that he’s joking just yet.

Tony’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Right about what?”

“Please tell me you’re not a hoarder.” 

Tony laughs, making himself and Steve shake with it. Steve loves the sound of it, so perfectly genuine after what’s already been a draining day.

“Shut up,” Tony says through the tail end of his laughter. “He did not seriously suggest that.”

“It was literally his first thought. His only thought, actually.”

“I’m not a hoarder,” Tony says. He takes Steve’s hand and lifts it to wrap Steve’s arm around his shoulders, and Steve lets himself be moved. “You ever heard of the Carbonell method?”

“Of course,” Steve says instantly. “Everyone learns about that in med school.”

“That was my mother. Maria Carbonell.”

“What? Seriously?” Steve feels like that’s something he should have known, even without Tony telling him.

Tony nods, “She was still perfecting the method when she met my father, Howard Stark. He was in the tech industry and doing pretty well, but trying to break into medical tech at the time. They met through Fury - he was a mutual friend, I guess. Howard created the instrument she needed to make it work and made a fortune off it, meanwhile she became an award winning surgeon for it. I guess I happened somewhere in all of that.” 

“What does that have to do with where you live?”

“Because when they died, his fortune became mine, and so did the ridiculous mansion that I kind of hate.”

Steve frowns, “You live in a mansion. Are you serious?”

“That’d be a really dumb story to make up, sweetheart.”

“No, no,” Steve says. “You live in a mansion, and you’ve been making us stay in my apartment with two roommates and only one shower?”

Tony laughs, short and surprised, “I thought it’d be weird.”

“I mean, yeah it is,” Steve admits, “but you were right about it being anticlimactic. I was preparing for something horrible, not you being secretly rich.” 

“The lesson has been learned,” Tony says. “Talk to boyfriend about things.”

Steve tilts his head to rest it on top of Tony’s, fingers trailing through the hair at the base of Tony’s skull. 

“Hey, how many bedrooms does your place have?”

“I think there’s ten,” Tony replies. “Why?”

“Because we’re having sex in all of them.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I should drag out the angst  
> Also Me: Let's resolve it immediately so they can be cute again.


	16. Chapter 16

Steve collapses face first on the bed, narrowly avoiding falling directly onto Tony as he tries to catch his breath. Tony reaches a hand out and brushes the sweat-damp hair from Steve’s forehead. There’s a tired but fond smile on his face as he does it, and Steve knows his face must look the same.

“One down, nine to go,” Tony says, making Steve laugh. 

“I’m adding the living room to the list.” Steve pulls the blanket up, covering them both from the waist down. 

“Oh, yeah?”

“And your ridiculously large shower,” Steve says. “I seriously can’t believe you made us squeeze into mine for two weeks.”

Tony traces Steve’s jawline with his fingertips, and Steve feels his entire body relax under the soft touch. 

“But we’re making up for it rather spectacularly, I’d say.”

Steve hums, shifting his body to press against Tony’s side. His hand rests on Tony’s abdomen, his chin just above Tony’s shoulder. He takes a long moment just to look at him, memorizing every line and freckle on his face. They’ve both had a long day at work, with too many things going wrong and not enough going right, and it’s nice to have this moment just for them after everything. Seeing Tony’s place for the first time was overwhelming at first - Tony was right about it being intimidating - but now, in Tony’s bedroom, away from the grandeur of the outside, nothing seems to have changed between them. 

“I really do like staying at your place better, you know,” Tony says. “Wasn’t just saying that.”

“It’s so quiet here,” Steve says, voice low. 

“Is that good or bad?”

“I don’t know,” Steve admits. “Just weird, I guess.”

He knows that at his place, Sam and Bucky are downstairs in front of the TV, watching whatever game is on now. Sam is probably yelling about the bad calls the refs are making, while Bucky’s rooting for whatever team Sam is against just to piss him off. He’s not actually invested enough in anything except for baseball to actually care, but he’ll pretend for the fun of it. And if Steve and Tony were there, they’d be hearing it all from Steve’s bedroom, like a comedic white noise machine. Here, though, there’s nothing but the muffled traffic outside to fill the silence.

“You can say it. You like it better there, too.”

Steve smiles, “Yeah, I do. But never tell Sam and Bucky that.”

“Can’t let them think we like them,” Tony agrees.

“They’ll be so annoying about it.”

Tony laughs and rolls over so he’s facing Steve. His hand skirts down Steve’s side, then comes to a rest on his hip. 

“I do like having you in my bed, though.”

“Yeah?”

Tony nods. He scoots even further forward, burying his face against Steve’s neck. “You look good in it.”

Steve runs an appreciative hand down the bare skin of Tony’s back and says, “You look better.”

“Impossible.”

Comfortable silence settles in, and it’s all light touches and slow breathing. After a while, Tony shuts his eyes, and he’s so still that Steve thinks he might be asleep until he says, “I think I want to sell this place.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, opening his eyes and lifting his head to look at Steve. “Also, I want a snack.”

Steve laughs, “Those thoughts aren’t connected at all.”

“They’re both things I want, therefore they are connected,” Tony counters. He tosses the blanket to the side and dislodges Steve’s arm as he stands from the bed. Steve allows himself to stare while Tony retrieves his boxers from the floor and pulls them back on. When Tony turns back around, there’s a knowing smirk on his face, like he knew that Steve would be looking. “Are you coming?”

“I already did that.”

Tony rolls his eyes, but there’s too much softness in them for him to actually look annoyed, “Your jokes are terrible.”

“You love them.”

“Hate them, love you.”

Tony’s eyes go wide the second the words are out, and Steve feels the way Tony looks. He’s never actually seen all the blood rush out of someone’s face like that before.

“What?” 

“Oh, God,” Tony whispers. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Because you didn’t mean it, or because -”

Steve doesn’t get to finish that thought before Tony quickly says, “No, God, no. I meant it. I just - fuck - that’s not how I wanted to say it. I was waiting, you know, for later and more time and whatever. You’re probably not even there yet, and now I’ve just freaked you out, and can we just forget that I said that? Please? Just erase it from your mind. It never happened. I totally did not just accidentally tell you that I love you. We’re just - snacks. That’s all that’s happening, we’re getting snacks. We -” Tony cuts himself off and puts his hands on his hips, “Steve, why the fuck haven’t you stopped me yet? Please for the love of God put me out of my misery already.”

He knows he shouldn’t laugh, but Steve really can’t help it. Tony glares at him, sounding appropriately put out when he says, “Don’t laugh at me, you asshole. I’m in distress over here.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Steve says through the laughter. He stretches out his arm and catches Tony’s hand in his, pulling him back to the bed. “Come m’ere.”

“I’m taking it back,” Tony says in a huff, contradicting himself with the way he settles back in against Steve’s body, chest to chest. He hides his face in the crook of Steve’s neck. “It’s not even an issue anymore, because you laughed, so I’m taking it back.”

“So you don’t love me now?” Steve wraps his arms around Tony’s torso. One hand rests on Tony’s lower back, and the other brushes through Tony’s hair. “That’s a real shame, because I love you.”

Tony seems to have stopped breathing completely, then Steve hears a quiet, “You do?”

“Of course I do,” Steve says, dropping any sense of casualness. “You didn’t freak me out. Surprised me, sure, but I don’t want to forget that you said it.”

Tony doesn’t speak, but his breathing does go back to normal, and the tension in his body evaporates. Steve continues to run his hand through Tony’s unruly hair, holding him as tight as possible so there’s no way for him to doubt the truth of Steve’s words.

The moment stretches on for a while, until Tony mumbles, “I still want that snack.”

Steve laughs as he untangles himself from Tony and gets up from the bed. He pulls his boxers back on, then holds out his hand for Tony. 

Tony leads him down the hall, which is lined with artwork that Steve’s sure he once learned about in some sort of art history class. A staircase, a few turns, and even more hallways land them in the kitchen. 

“Your house feels like a maze.”

Tony smiles, a bittersweet edge to it, “It was perfect for hide and seek when I was a kid. My parents were usually busy, but we had this butler, Jarvis, who used to play with me sometimes. Used to be so worried that no one would ever find me, but he always did.”

Steve can’t decide if that’s sweet or tragic, but either way it makes his heart ache a little. From the affection in Tony’s voice, though, he can tell, “Sounds like you were close with him.”

“Yeah, I was,” Tony says. He looks a little far off for a moment, then he shakes his head like he’s clearing the memories. “Those are stories for another time, though. Too many of them to get into right now.”

Walking over to a door, Tony opens it to reveal a sparsely stocked pantry. “He would kill me for the state that I have his kitchen in, that’s for sure.”

Steve stands behind him, looking over the shelves. The only thing not in short supply is coffee, which fills one shelf entirely. “Do you not eat? I mean, I know you said once that you live on hospital food, but I thought you were joking.”

Tony shrugs, “Take out exists for a reason, Steve.” 

Steve sighs as he wraps his arms around Tony’s waist from behind, “I feel like I should start cooking for you, but we both know that would be terrible.”

“I’m personally not a fan of food poisoning.”

“Hey, I’ve never given anyone food poisoning before.”

“Which means it’s really only a matter of time before your luck runs out, sweetheart.” Tony leans back into Steve’s arms, letting him support his weight. They stare into the pantry awhile longer before Tony offers, “I think there’s ice cream in the freezer.”

Steve releases his hold on Tony and crosses the room to open the freezer, shivering as the cold air hits his bare skin. 

“It’s literally the only thing in your freezer.” He grabs the carton, reading the label while Tony opens a drawer and pulls out two spoons. “Plain vanilla? Really?”

“You’re mocking my ice cream choices now?” Tony points a spoon at him, “I’ll have you know that vanilla is actually the best ice cream flavor.”

Steve makes a face. “Is it, though?”

“Yes, it is,” Tony argues. He opens the fridge and procures a bottle of chocolate syrup. The syrup gets tucked under his armpit while he reaches for a can of whipped cream. He may not have actual food anywhere, but he’s clearly prepared for midnight ice cream. “It’s completely neutral. You can add whatever you want to it, and you aren’t stuck with just one flavor that you’ll be sick of by the time you’ve eaten it once. It can be literally any flavor you want it to be.” 

Tony goes on for longer, even as he’s going through one of the cupboards and pulling out even more toppings, but Steve can hardly hear it. He’s too caught up in the simplistic perfection of the moment. The sight of Tony in just his boxers, arms stacked full with more toppings than either of them could possibly need. The way Tony can get so ridiculously passionate about the most innocuous of things, and Steve wouldn’t mind listening to every single one of those unnecessarily strong opinions. He’s lucky, he realizes, that Tony was the first to accidentally say love, because it would have slipped out right here otherwise. Even luckier, though, is that he’s more than allowed to say it still.

“I love you.”

Tony stops mid-sentence, something about mint ice cream being the worst thing to ever happen, and gives him a curious smile. “So you’ve said.”

“Needed to be said again.” 

“Well, I do quite like hearing it.”

“Then I’ll say it all the time. Make sure you always know.”

Tony smiles fondly. He shifts everything over to one arm so he can take Steve’s hand to lead him back to his bedroom. “Come on, darling. We’re eating ice cream in bed, and then we’re gonna see if you taste as good covered in chocolate as I’ve been imagining.” 


	17. Chapter 17

“Did you hear?” Natasha asks, throwing herself down into the chair between Bucky and Steve. She reaches for Bucky’s drink and takes a sip of his beer. 

“Hear about what?” Steve scoots his chair over a little to make room for her at the table and slides his own drink back in front of himself. It’ll be overcrowded with the five of them once Tony’s shift is finally over he arrives at the bar, but none of them ever mind much. 

“Fury.”

“What about Fury?”

“Brain tumor.”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together. “Fury has a brain tumor?” She nods, and Steve follows up, “Is it operable?”

“Yeah, Banner’s going for it on Thursday.”

“Damn,” Bucky says with a whistle. “I’d love to be in on that.”

“Kind of a weird reaction to hearing the chief has a brain tumor, don’t you think?” Steve questions. 

Bucky shrugs, “I just want to see what his brain looks like.”

“What the hell do you mean? You’ve seen a brain before. They all look the same.”

“You went to medical school right?” Sam asks. “Like you actually attended a real institution and got a degree and everything?”

Bucky holds his hands up in front of his chest. “Okay, damn. There’s no need for that. I just think it would be cool. Tell them I’m right, Nat.”

“I actually am kind of with him on this one,” Nat says, though there’s a hint of shame in it. 

“Thank you,” Bucky grins. “I mean, how often do you get to see inside your boss?”

“Every night if you’re Steve,” Sam replies.

Steve feels like he should probably take some offense to jokes about his sex life, but he laughs instead, especially when Bucky wrinkles his nose and complains, “Oh, come on, man. I don’t need to think about that.”

“Sorry, but when you get the perfect set up for a joke, you gotta take it,” Sam says, not sounding sorry at all. “And let’s not pretend we don’t all know what Steve’s been up to. It was literally one of the first conversations we had together.”

That conversation feels like a lifetime ago to Steve, though it’s only been a little over three months in actuality. He feels different now, so far removed from the version of himself that almost didn’t let his relationship happen at all because he was scared. 

“I never did thank you guys for that, did I?”

Nat frowns, “Thank us for what?”

“For reacting the way you did,” Steve says. He clutches his drink in his hand, watching the dark liquid swirl around. “You guys didn’t know me, we weren’t really friends yet. You could have just as easily shut me out for it, but you never did.”

“And you let us move in with you after knowing us for less than twenty four hours,” Bucky says, shrugging. “We never exactly followed normal friendship rules.”

“I truly expected the three of you to kill each other within a week when I set that up, but I guess it’s fine that it worked out, too,” Nat says. 

“Jury’s still out,” Sam interjects. “Still might kill your boyfriend if he keeps leaving his towels on the bathroom floor.”

“Oh, boyfriend?” Steve says. “Is that what this is now? We’re officially naming it?”

Even in the dim lighting of the bar Steve can see the blush on Bucky’s face. Nat, however, takes in stride with a smirk, “If he ever gets the balls to actually ask me out, sure.”

“Seriously, dude?” Sam asks, incredulous. “You haven’t asked her out yet?”

“I’m getting there!” Bucky defends, still visibly flustered. 

“You know, I remember being pretty heavily judged for taking a long time to ask Tony out. Feels a little hypocritical, Buck.”

“It’s a guaranteed yes, man. An actual sure thing. There’s literally no reason not to ask.”

“You calling me easy, Sam?” Nat raises an eyebrow at him. 

A new voice chimes in, “Damn, Wilson, are you asking for death over here?” 

Steve turns around as Tony puts his hand on his shoulder. He gives him a smile, and Tony bends to kiss his cheek. “You’re just in time, we’re making fun of Bucky.”

Bucky grumbles something under his breath while Tony laughs, “What for this time?”

“Being too chicken to ask Nat out on a date, even though she just said she would say yes if he did,” Sam answers.

“Ah, a real Steve move, huh?” He looks at Nat and says sympathetically, “They get better with time, at least.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs. He puts his hand over Tony’s, which is still on his shoulder, and tilts his head to gesture to the empty chair to his left. “Are you sitting down?”

The smile on Tony’s face fades a little. “Actually, I was hoping we could talk.” He glances around the table, where everyone else is doing their best to pretend they’re not listening. “Just the two of us.”

“That’s not alarming at all.”

“It’s nothing that bad,” Tony says, but he isn’t meeting Steve’s eyes anymore. “At least I hope it isn’t. Can we just - over there, please?”

Tony gestures towards an empty table tucked away into the back corner, and Steve feels a sense of impending doom as he follows him to it. There’s a nervous energy coming from Tony, and it puts Steve equally on edge.

Steve sits first and waits for Tony to start the conversation. It takes a few seconds for Tony to admit, “I don’t really know where to start.”

“The beginning is usually a safe bet.”

Tony bites his lip, and his hand is clenched so tightly in a fist on the table that his knuckles are white. Steve reaches for the hand, uncurling the fingers to hold it in his own. It seems to help, and Tony says, “Remember on our first date when I was joking and said we could talk about trauma and repressed feelings on our third date? And I said I would tell you the whole story about California?”

Steve nods, though the memory is a little hazy for him. He had forgotten about it long ago and wouldn’t have thought to bring it up again himself. 

“You mentioned a guy once. That you followed someone you loved,” Steve remembers, thinking back to that first week they knew each other. 

Tony looks ashamed as he says, “I may have understated that a bit, or a lot, really. We were together for a long time, almost ten years, and I, um, we were married. Up until this morning, actually.”

The world seems to stop spinning for a moment, time standing still around him. 

“You’ve been married this whole time?” Steve says slowly. Half question, half disbelieving statement. He’s having a hard time processing it, his brain repeating the word  _ married  _ over and over without making any sense of it. He doesn’t realize he’s been sinking into his chair until his back hits the hard wood slats. “The entire time we were… you were…” 

“I know I should have told you sooner,” Tony says quickly. His grip on Steve’s hand has tightened, like he’s terrified that Steve will let go. “I should have told you right at the beginning.” 

“So why didn’t you?” Steve blinks rapidly, trying to clear his suddenly cloudy vision.

“I wanted to. I almost told you so many times.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

Tony looks away, like he can’t bear to meet Steve’s eyes as he admits, “I didn’t want to lose this. That part of my life, everything that happened, it’s not something I’m proud of. I made all the wrong choices back then, and I just wanted to leave it all behind. Can you just - will you let me explain? Let me tell you everything, and if you want to walk away when I’m done I -” Tony breaks off, and it sounds like it takes effort to say, “I’ll understand. Just let me explain before you leave.”

Steve crosses his arms over his chest like he’s holding himself together, and Tony’s hand falls to the table. A part of Steve wants to walk out, but he needs to hear the full story. He needs the last few months to not have been a waste, needs to know that he wasn’t so horribly wrong about this.  _ Married  _ echoes yet again. 

“Okay. Explain,” he says. His voice sounds hollow.

Tony looks relieved, but only for a second before he starts talking, “I met him at a conference when I was a resident, and he was this hot shot neurosurgeon that everyone was trying to talk to. I wasn’t anybody back then. I was just a kid that was too smart for his own good and so desperately wanted to be noticed. So I thought it was a miracle when he wanted to talk to me, you know? 

“And in the beginning everything just seemed so surreal. He was everything I could have ever wanted, and I let myself get swept away. I was young and stupid and I thought I was in love. I followed him out to LA when he wanted to go, changed my entire life for him, did everything I could to make myself fit where he needed me to. Everyone told me not to do it, but I didn’t listen. Couldn’t listen to anyone but him. 

“Somewhere along the way, though, it’s like he became somebody else. Or maybe that’s who he always was, and I just never wanted to see it. The words weren’t so sweet anymore. Sometimes they were just downright cruel. But after all of that, all the time and the effort, it felt like failing to admit that it wasn’t working. Like there was something wrong with me if I couldn’t make it last, and I didn’t want to admit that everyone else was right about it, either. So I pretended that it was okay. I gave up even more of myself, looked the other way when he’d come home with lipstick on his collar or not come home at all.” 

“He cheated on you?”

“Probably more times than I ever knew about.” Tony sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I let it be my fault for a long time.”

Steve scrubs a hand over his face. The signs were there, he supposes, of someone who had been horribly broken before. All the times Tony was surprised by Steve’s easy trust, every time he expected Steve to give up on them. 

“Did he leave, or did you?”

“I left,” Tony says. “Almost a year ago. There was no big fight or dramatic exit or anything like that. I just realized one day I was holding on to something that wasn’t worth fighting for. So I packed my things and got on a plane back home. Took some time off to get my life back together, and then a few months later Fury was offering me a job.”

“And then you met me,” Steve fills in the blank. 

“And then I met you,” Tony repeats, his smile sad. “I never saw you coming, you know. Meeting you was like,” he pauses, seeming to search for the words, “like finally waking up after being asleep for so long. Like I could actually breathe again. And just for once I wanted something that was good. Something that wasn’t tainted by all my mistakes. I know I was wrong for keeping it from you, but I swear it was over with him a long time ago. We’d been separated for months before you and I met.”

“So I wasn’t your mistress, then?” Steve says wryly. “That’s good to know.”

“Steve,” Tony’s voice cracks on his name. He sounds wrecked and looks even worse. “I’m so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.”

_ But you did,  _ Steve thinks.

“All you had to do was tell me you were separated from someone, you know,” Steve says. “Right in the beginning, if you had just said that. I didn’t need the full story. I wouldn’t have asked you for that if you weren’t ready to give it.”

Tony’s tone is self-deprecating as he says, “I guess I learned the ‘talk to boyfriend’ lesson a little too late.”

Steve huffs a laugh, though it sounds empty to his own ears. He can’t quite decide where to go from here - what to feel or what to say. Tony uses his silence to say, “I know it might not mean anything right now, but I do love you.” 

“Of course it means something,” Steve says. What it means, though, he isn’t sure. “Can I just - I need some time. Is that okay?” 

Tony nods, “Yeah, of course. I get that.”

Steve stands from the table, hesitating for just a second as he searches for something to say. Eventually he decides on nothing at all, just a tight, forced smile as he turns to walk out of the bar. 

He avoids looking at his friends as he leaves, unwilling to see their questioning faces. There’s no way they didn’t notice the intensity of the conversation, must have caught the exact moment Steve’s heart plummeted to the floor. They have to know that it wasn’t good.

Steve walks slowly down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets. He only makes it as far as the corner before he turns back around. This isn’t right, he realizes. This isn’t where he wants to leave things.

Tony’s exactly where Steve left him, alone in the corner of the bar. He’s looking down, forehead in hand, so he doesn’t notice Steve until Steve’s hand is right in front of him. 

“Hi, I’m Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you.”

“What are you doing?” Tony questions, face torn between confusion and heartbreaking hope. “I thought you needed time.”

“We’re starting over.”

Tony looks down at Steve’s hand, then back up at him. “Why?”

“Because I met you for the first time right here, and I think it might be one of the best things that ever happened to me. Because I know that what we have is something really great, and I don’t want to let it go over this. I - I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, and I can’t say that I’m not hurt over this. I wish you would’ve told me. I wish you could have trusted me, and I wish I’d given you a reason to right from the start. But we’re starting again, because we both made mistakes, and I want to get it right this time.

“I want to take you back to my place and wake up with you in my bed, and I don’t want either of us to go anywhere. I won’t wait to take you out for the kind of date that you deserve. I’ll ask you right away, because I’ll already be so far gone on you that it’s terrifying. And I’m going to tell you about my past, and you’re going to tell me about yours, even the parts that hurt. You’re going to make fun of my bedroom walls and trick my roommates into stupid bets, and I’m going to tell you terrible jokes that you secretly love. And I’m not going to walk away from us, because I love you, and you’re always going to be worth fighting for. We’re starting from the beginning, and we’re going to get it right.”

Steve holds his hand out again, “So, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Steve Rogers.”

Tony looks at Steve’s hand again, then takes it in his with a grin. “Hi, Steve. I’m Tony Stark. It’s absolutely wonderful to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I fully intend to follow the ending of season 1 of Grey's Anatomy and have Tony's husband show up and all that, but I decided that Tony's a better person than Derek lol. 
> 
> Just the epilogue left to go!


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's short and sweet, but I couldn't leave this one without a glimpse into their future :)

“Acute myocardial infarction,” Steve says through his mouthful of toothpaste. 

Tony meets his eyes in the mirror and grins, “Correct again. You, Dr. Rogers, are going to ace your intern exam.” 

Steve rinses his mouth and puts the toothbrush back in the holder, his blue next to Tony’s red. 

“I’m just looking to pass,” Steve says, as he always does when Tony confidently tells him he’ll do perfect. He leans against the sink, facing Tony in his seat on the edge of the bathtub. 

Tony puts the flash cards down and stands, crossing the room and boxing Steve in with his hands on the sink on either side of him. Steve automatically reaches out to pull him closer, hands slotting perfectly into the dip of his hips. He kisses Steve’s cheek, and the contact has a calming effect on his pre-test nerves. 

“You’re going to pass,” Tony assures him, “and you’re going to become the best damn resident that hospital has ever seen.”

“You were a resident there,” Steve points out. “Don’t you already have that title?”

“As flattering as that is, we both know you’ll be a better resident than I was. And Pepper stole that title from me forever ago, so really, you’ll be stealing it from her.”

“Oh, fun. Another reason for her to hate me.”

Tony rolls his eyes, “She stopped hating you a long time ago, and you know it. She loves you now.”

“She tolerates me now,” Steve corrects. 

It is true that the dirty looks and terrible assignments ended months ago, somewhere around the time Steve and Tony hit their one year anniversary when she must have finally realized their relationship was more serious than she initially thought. But Steve wouldn’t even use the word like to describe her feelings towards him, let alone love. 

“She loves you,” Tony repeats more firmly. “I heard her say it myself.”

Steve narrows his eyes, “When was this?”

“A month ago.”

“And was it said sarcastically?”

“I’m not sure, I wasn’t really listening.”

Steve laughs, “Of course you weren’t.”

There’s a sharp knock on the door that cuts off whatever Tony’s reply would have been, followed by, “Are you two done in there? Some of us still need to shower.”

Tony reluctantly detaches himself from Steve and pulls the bathroom door open, telling Bucky, “Some of you should consider hitting the snooze button less than ten times a day.”

“You are the very last person I’ll be taking time management advice from, Stark,” Bucky retorts. 

Steve grabs the flash cards off the side of the tub while Tony and Bucky continue to exchange quips in the doorway. Slipping between them, he takes Tony’s hand on the way through and drags him off towards the stairs. 

“We should kick him out,” Tony says petulantly. 

“You say that at least three times a week, but we both know you’d cry if he ever actually left,” Steve says. 

Tony scoffs, “I would not cry. And if I did, they’d be tears of joy.”

Steve hums in reply, knowing full well that Tony’s lying. He was there when just last week Tony and Bucky got drunk and sang the entire  _ Grease  _ soundtrack together.

They head into the kitchen, where Sam and Nat are already at the table. Sam’s head is buried in the pages of his practice test booklet, as if he can somehow absorb the knowledge that way. 

“I’m going to die,” Sam grumbles. 

“You won’t die,” Nat says with a roll of her eyes. She drains the rest of her coffee and stands to put her mug in the dishwasher. “You might fail and have to repeat an intern year, but you won’t die.”

“I’ll die of humiliation.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tony grins. “I see we’re all feeling confident this morning.”

Sam glances up from the papers with a glare and repeats, “I’m going to die.”

“You know the pass rate for this test is in the high nineties, right?” Tony questions, retrieving mugs from the cabinet for both him and Steve. “You’ll be fine.”

Steve takes a seat next to Sam at the table and picks up the top flash card. He reads the scenario to Nat and Sam, pausing momentarily to thank Tony for the coffee he places in front of him. They say the right answer at the same time, and he moves onto the next one. 

They get through eleven scenarios, with Bucky showing up halfway through with dripping wet hair, before they have to leave to make it in time for the exam. 

On the sidewalk, Steve and Tony fall behind the other three, a couple paces back. Tony slips his hand into Steve’s, and the feeling of the ring on his finger makes Steve smile. It’s new, only a few days old and a little accidental. He had every intention of waiting to propose, until his internship was over and life was more settled again. But the question slipped out on its own accord three days ago, and the yes came so quickly that Steve didn’t even have the chance to panic about it. Luckily, he already had the ring. 

“Hey,” Tony bumps Steve’s hip with his own, “what are you smiling for?”

“Am I not supposed to be happy holding my fiancė’s hand?” 

Tony grins, “God, I love hearing you say that. I’ll never get sick of it, I swear.”

“Well, eventually I’ll have to stop,” Steve says. “You know, when I upgrade you to husband.”

“Mm, yeah that one is nicer,” Tony says, smile turning softer. 

Tony’s eyes are bright in the early morning sun, skin tinted a light shade of pink from the autumn chill, and Steve is struck yet again with wonder at how he’ll get to have this for the rest of his life. 

It didn’t happen easily between them. Trust can be broken in seconds, but it takes time to repair it. But he’s grateful they took the time, grateful for the decision to walk back into that bar and for the one that put him there that very first night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so, so much for reading this! I appreciate every single comment/kudos/subscription more than you'll ever know. 
> 
> If you want, feel free to message me on my tumblr (@ifmywishescametrue)! I'm always happy to talk fics :)


End file.
